


X-Wing: Arms of Alderaan

by Astronut



Category: Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 16:22:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 46
Words: 64,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20585453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astronut/pseuds/Astronut
Summary: Tycho Celchu leads Rogue Squadron against a threat that forces him to face his past and fight for his future.Starts at the end of I, Jedi.





	1. Dramatis Personae and Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted at Downtime and the Jedi Council Forums
> 
> Please do not repost without permission.

X-Wing: Arms of Alderaan

_Dramatis Personae_

Rogue Squadron

Colonel Tycho Celchu (Human male from Alderaan)

Major Derek “Hobbie” Klivian (Human male from Ralltiir)

Major Nrin Vakil (Quarren male from Mon Calamari)

Commander Gavin Darklighter (Human male from Tatoonie)

Major Wes Janson (Human male from Tanaab)

Lieutenant Alinn Varth (Human female from Generis)

Captain Inyri Forge (Human female from Kessel)

Flight Officer Reme Pollar (Human female from Agamar)

Commander Corran Horn (Human male from Corellia)

Captain Ooryl Qyrgg (Gand male from Gand)

Lieutenant Octaten Binin (Givin male from Yag’Dhul)

Lieutenant Gul d’al Ghufran (Askajian female from Askaj)

New Republic Personnel

General Wedge Antilles (Human male from Corellia)

Captain Jaru Leean (Human male from Commenor)

Agent Iella Wessiri (Human female from Corellia)

Imperial Personnel

Vice Admiral Gilad Pellaeon (Human male)

Warlord Harrsk (Human male)

Civilians

Mirax Terrik (Human female from Corellia)

Booster Terrik (Human male from Corellia)

Winter (Human female from Alderaan)

Qwi Xux (Omwati female from Omwat)

Queen Isplourrdacartha Estillo (Human female from Eiattu IV)

Tedmund Kinar (Human male from Alderaan)

Captain Mara Jade (Human female)

Colonel Tyresi Gurtt (Human female)

Admiral Leonia Tavira (Human female from Eiattu VI)

Jedi Master Luke Skywalker (human male from Tatooine)

Nanner (Devaronian female from Devaron)

Bishi (Human female from Coruscant)

Prologue

An eerie blue glow danced around the dimly lit office, casting long shadows. Bright graphics flashed by on the holo display above the desk, announcing new low prices on landspeeders, extraordinary news on the bearded man-Hutt’s pregnancy, and a new book by Luke Skywalker’s illegitimate three-headed child. Amidst the sludge, an ad of a different sort made its way across the holonet, racing from relay to relay, spreading like koruff seeds in the wind. 

Shutting the terminal shut down, its user leaned back in a straight-backed Fiji wood chair, aged hands grasping at a static holo on a nearby table. Tracing one long, gnarled finger along the holo, a rare smile crossed his face. _Soon, I promise. Soon_. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

“Rogue Squadron, listen up. Realspace reversion in thirty. Be prepared to form up and lock S-Foils. One Flight exits first, then Two. Three, stay back and cover the _Venture_. Remember, some of the clutches are friendlies. Copy that? I don’t want any friendly fire incidents. Keep your eyes pealed and don’t do anything stupid.” Colonel Tycho Celchu’s voice crackled through the comm, his hard Alderaanian inflection apparent even over the distortion common in New Republic starfighter communicators. 

_Sounds like someone hit the caf a little too hard this morning_, thought Major Wes Janson. Tycho had been uptight since quietly admitting to his two highest-ranking subordinates, Janson and Klivian, of having a strange vision before a battle a few weeks ago. In the vision, an attacking tri-paneled TIE ugly had warped into Corran Horn, a pilot from the squad who was on leave looking for his wife; a pilot that the squadron was now on a mission to rescue. Ever since then, he had been a bit jumpy before any engagement involving clutches. 

“Reversion in three, two, one…” 

The stars outside the _Errant Venture’s_ main landing bay halted their pseudo motion as the bright corridor of hyperspace gave way to the vast emptiness of realspace. Visible from the hanger a bay, a green world called Susevfi floated serenely beneath the ship. 

“Okay ladies, you heard the man, time to dance,” Janson said with a grin. Adjusting his repulsorlifts, he opened the X-Wing’s throttle and dove out of the landing bay. Before him, he could see the pink glow of One Flight’s fusial thrusters. A wave of TIEs already rushed to greet them, issued from the imposing Star Destroyer threading its way through the green planet’s rings. 

“Two Flight, take starboard. Clear a fifteen-degree arc or so. We’ll take port. That work for you, _Venture_?” Rogue Leader’s voice called out. 

“Do whatever you want, Celchu. Just point me in the direction of my daughter and I’ll blast any mynock in my way,” Booster’s deep bass rumbled through the comm. The _Errant Venture_, Booster’s personal Star Destroyer and floating smuggler’s den, was already yawing to point itself in the direction of its opponent, Leonia Tavira’s _Invidious_.

“Look, ladies, you’re dancing partners have arrived. Now remember, make sure they have you home by eleven and if they try any funny stuff, blast them to bits.” Wes teased his flight as four clutches approached Two Flight’s position. 

“Yes, Father,” two female voices responded in unison. One issued from the X-Wing on his wing, flown by Flight Officer Temsca Dambi. The second came from Eight, with Flight Officer Reme Pollar in the pilot’s seat. Both pilots were human females with relatively little combat experience, and part of Wes’ playful admonishment came from the desire to see them live through this battle. _Sith, they’re young. _

“You’re not my father Five, even if you are old enough,” came Inyri Forge’s cutting voice. She and Reme tore off after a pair of clutches, sending linked bolts of red energy towards the lead TIE. 

Wes allowed a playful smile to tug at his lips as he paused his pursuit of his target, twisting his X-Wing slightly as he issued a snap shot towards a different target. “Funny, Lead keeps telling me that I’m old enough to be your son.” The TIE Inyri had been tailing exploded into a twinkling fireball, victim to Wes’ sharp shooting. 

A stream of curses lit the comm waves. “If I was your mother, you’d be an orphan.” Chuckling, Wes returned to his pursuit, throttling slightly to catch up to Dambi. 

“Two Flight, cut the chatter or you’ll all be on KP duty tonight.” Wes sighed. _Celchu, you need to lighten up. Even Wedge allowed us a bit of chitchat._

“Aww, sir, give us a break,” Dambi’s soft voice pouted. 

“You’re peeling tubers tonight, Six.” Her attention on her new assignment, a green bolt narrowly missed her X-Wing as a TIE went screaming by. _Droyk, that was close_.

“Six, why don’t I lead for a bit? You sit this one out.” Nudging his X-Wing forward of her position so she could see that he meant business, Wes then pulled sharply up on his stick, looping tightly to chase the clutch that had passed them. “Alright you,” Wes muttered to himself, “time to die.” Thumb depressing the trigger, four red beams burst out in direction of the TIE. Impossibly, the clutch fluttered his throttle and pitched, narrowly escaping the beams. 

Wes let out an appreciative whistle. “Okay, Plan B.” Adjusting his shields to maximize forward strength, he maneuvered into position for a head-to-head. “Six, stay with me and be prepared to roll port.” 

Energy crackled off his forward shields, obscuring his vision, as the TIE fighter bombarded his X-Wing. Without turning on his targeting computer, he flipped over to torpedoes. Sighting on instinct, he sent one streaking towards the enemy fighter just as he was thrown bodily against his restraints. Alarms blared and red lights illuminated his control panel. “What the kriff?” he exclaimed before realizing a second pair of TIEs had taken advantage of his narrow focus. “Sithspawn. Six, loop around and see if you can get a shot.” Another detonation rocked his X-Wing. “Six, you there? Dambi?” There was no reply. 

Swearing, Wes punching in the fire control and flipped the power distributor to manual. “Bolt, see what you can do on that processor. I need shields to full.” The astromech chittered a burst of squeaks and trills. Wasting precious seconds, he glanced at the translation screen as another wave of lasers hit his craft. “I don’t care if the relay is fried, fix it. Are you an astromech or not?” A rude razzberry was the only response. _Stupid, malfunctioning hunk of junk. _

Dialing power from his engines to weapons, he unlinked his laser cannons. Usually, they were left linked as to provide the maximum amount of firepower at their point of convergence. Unlinked, they could be cycled faster and travel longer, but would not provide as much punch. 

“That’s right, come on in and finish me off. I’ll show you how dead I can be,” Wes muttered under his breath. The two clutches dropped into his forward arc, arrogantly exposing themselves to his guns as they closed in for the kill. Just before they entered effective laser range, Janson snapped off two shots. The first pierced the lead TIE’s cockpit, killing the pilot but not the craft. The second entered the other clutch’s cockpit a little higher, slicing through deep enough to penetrate the ion engines. Wes grinned as the latter TIE burst into a spectacular yellow fireball. 

The grin quickly fell off his face as the first TIE barreled towards Wes, its pilot dead but engines clearly not. “Bolt, engines, now!” he shouted, shoving his stick as far forward as the hard stops would allow. Outside his cockpit, he could see TIE, its solar panels burning from shrapnel strikes, coming ever closer. “Bolt!” 

Abruptly, Wes felt himself thrown back in his seat as his engines finally kicked in. Narrowly missing his snubfighter, the TIE screamed by. Janson turned in his seat slightly to watch it explode as it ran into a bit of debris in its path. Belatedly, he realized that the wreckage had been an S-Foil. “Bolt, are we missing any parts?” He watched the translation scroll by. “Yes, I know I’m missing my sanity, but what about the ship?” Twisting and straining against his harness, he counted his S-Foils. “One, two, three, four…” he trailed off. “Dambi.” 

Clearing his throat of the lump that had suddenly formed, he called in his status. “Lead, I’m clear, but toasted pretty badly. Dambi’s gone.” _I failed her. I failed my wingmate. And Rogue Squadron gains yet another dead hero. I’m beginning to see why Wedge left._

Tycho’s voice was heavy when it came in over the comm. “Understood, Five. It’s too hot near the _Venture_, so stay where you’re clear. Seven, you and Eight keep an eye on him. One Flight, on me. It looks like we may have to pay the _Invidious_ our respects.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

The _Invidious_ had cleared the rocky rings and was quickly closing in on the _Errant Venture_. From his current location, Tycho could make out two turbocannons attempting to pivot into position. _This is not going to be good. Usually, a slugging match between two Star Destroyers is bad enough, but _Venture_ is not equipped for this_. 

“Booster knows this is suicide, right?” The voice belonging to his wingman, Major Hobbie Klivian, was quiet and sad, different from his exaggerated mournful tone in which comments of this sort were usually bemoaned. 

“He’s thinking of Mirax, Hobbie. Let’s worry about extracting our people, and then we’ll worry about surviving this.” Tycho watched as the _Invidious_ fired a round of ranging shots. Green lasers lit the darkness, reflecting pearlescently from the near by ice chunks of the rings. The tri-paneled TIEs danced safely out of reach. One shot by, Ghufran, an Askajian pilot, hot on its tail. 

“Twelve, do you need assistance?” Tycho watched as Ghufran overshot the TIE, which quickly took advantage of the situation to hammer her starboard thrusters with laser fire. 

“Assistance would be greatly appreciated, Colonel,” came a heavily accented, very polite female voice. _Such a nice change from usual pilot sarcasm_. 

Tycho rolled to port, dropping slightly to target the clutch. Wordlessly, Hobbie maintained his position tucked slightly behind and to the right of Tycho through years of training and experience. Rolling in a spiral, the clutch evaded Tycho’s lasers while continuing to pepper Twelve with his own. 

Slowing slightly, Tycho allowed his X-Wing to drift some distance away from Hobbie. Hobbie lashed out with red bolts, assuming Tycho’s former position on the clutch’s tail. Meanwhile, Tycho was quickly gaining distance from the clutch. In moments, he would be far enough away that the clutch’s spiral would be small in comparison, presenting a near stationary target to a well-placed proton torpedo. Just the targeting computer registered a solution, its orange crosshairs firmly locked on the flittering TIE, the TIE exploded. 

A second clutch cut a smooth arc past Tycho, narrowly brushing through the quickly expanding ball of burning gas. “Thanks,” he glanced at the clutch’s Identify Friend/Foe transmission, “Thanks, Survivor Three.” There was no return response from the pirate. A longer study of the tactical readout showed no unfriendlies in the immediate area, but many still in play on the battlefield. _We still need to rack up some odds before we can even consider taking out the_ Invidious. 

Suddenly, Wes called out. “Lead, she’s retreating! Unless my eyes are as screwed up as my sensors, she’s retreating!” Indeed, the shots issuing from the _Invidious_ sliced through space further, and further away from the _Venture_ as Tavira backed her ship into the rings. A quick glance at his scanner showed a large red mass in retreat as dozens of smaller red dots maintained their darting acrobatics. 

“That’s not possible, why would she run? The _Invidious_ has us right where she wants us,” Gavin Darklighter, Rogue Four, inquired. Several larger chunks of icy rock detonated as Tavira’s crew painted them with lasers, boiling the water to create dangerous shrapnel that would deter any pursuers. 

“Tavira always runs when she sees no more profit to be made. She’ll return to the black depths until the next shiny oystra swims her way. Back when she was a Moff on Eiattu…” The interference on Nrin’s comm was more than most, due in part to the unique flight suit and helmet that allowed the Quarren to fly. However, implications of his old pilot’s tale were clear. 

Tycho frowned. _Nrin is right. Leonia Tavira has a history of running from a fight, but not when she held this much of an advantage_. “Three, stow the stories for later. Something’s not right. Keep your eyes peeled.” 

“Rogue Leader,” Booster’s rumble entered the conversation. “Looks like I’ve scared her off. I suggest you get dirt-side and find my daughter.” 

“Negative, _Venture_. We still have TIEs. And I’m not sure what Tavira is up to, but it doesn’t bode well. You’re going to have to trust Horn to take care of your daughter.” _As if _that_ will ever happen._

Finally clear of Susevfi’s ring, the _Invidious_ vanished. “Lead, she’s jumping to hyper! Ha! We did it!” That had to be Pollar, excited by the Rogues apparent victory. She had only joined the squadron a few months ago, after graduating in the top of her class at the Academy. Although quickly accumulating experience, she still had much to learn. 

“Can it, Eight. Stay on the TIEs. We’ll secure things up here and then go dirt-down. Stay on alert for any more surprises, I still don’t like this.” He glanced at the planetary rings, an excellent hideaway for any nasty surprises. _And there was still the matter of Tavira’s mysterious __advisers_. 

“Lead, what’s the plan for dirt-side?” Wes asked, interrupting his thoughts. “I can’t keep up with the clutches, but even a limping X-Wing can make some strafing runs.”

_Play it safe and wait for a possible surprise, or take the risky option and go for a ground assault to get our people out?_ Before Tycho could make a decision, the pirate that had led the Rogues to Susevfi broke into the conversation. “Colonel Celchu, this is Jacob Nive. I’ve just talked to Colonel Gurtt. She’d like to negotiate a cease-fire.” 

A smile began to pull at Tycho’s features. “Tell her we’ll break off when we see signs of her people powering down. Four, take Three and Five and prepare for a run at high priority ground targets.” 

“Okay guys, time to go bag some womp rats,” Gavin crowed, diving towards the planet with his thrusters throttled to half power to allow Janson’s damaged X-Wing to keep up. 

“Negative, negative.” A burst of static screeched through the comm as a new voice came online. “You’re late for the hunt again, Darklighter. We’ve already cleared out the womp rats, you should be okay to land.” 

_I know that voice, but it’s not the one I expected. What in the Force is he doing here? And where’s Corran? _

“We read you Boss. Rogues, keep your eyes peeled for trouble. Five, head back to the _Venture_ for repairs.” Tycho said, relief flooding him. “And Luke, you’d better have one good explanation for this.” 

“I’ll leave that to my Corsec friend here, he’s good with interrogations.” 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

The Moff’s palace in Yumfla consisted of rather odd architecture styling. On the agricultural world of Susevfi, the majority of the buildings were low-lying structures, built of the land and into the land. The Moff’s palace presented a startling contrast. Two small towers jutted out of a low triangular building with a soaring third tower, lined with lights welcoming Tycho’s arrival. _If Wedge were here, he’d understand the architecture. If he were here, we wouldn’t have lost two pilots today._

Adjusting the X-Wing’s repulsorlifts, the small fighter landed on the pad atop the highest tower. Unfastening his chinstrap, he flicked a few toggle switches to shut down his ship. 

“Summer, send all squadron transmissions through my comlink,” he directed his R2 unit. Jumping down from his X-Wing, he landed in a crouch looking at the black boot-clad feet of Luke Skywalker.

Luke offered Tycho his hand, pulling him out of his crouch and giving his old subordinate a slap on the back. “Tycho, it’s good to see you again. It’s been a while.”

“Its good to see you too, Boss.” 

Luke laughed, motioning Tycho to follow him. “I hear you’re the Boss now, Rogue Leader.” They entered a grand corridor decorated with scenes from local mythology depicted in shimmering precious stone mosaics. 

Tycho grimaced, not from the over abundant display of diverted wealth, but from the mention of his relativity new title. “I’ve been doing this for a year, and I still can’t get used to it. I feel a bit like a child wearing his father’s helmet. Are you sure you don’t want your job back? I’m sure the Admiral would re-commission you in a heartbeat.”

Luke folded his hands beneath the Jedi cloak he wore over his militant black clothing. His expression stopped Tycho short. _He’s a Jedi now, not a pilot_. The answer came to him as he looked into Luke’s distant blue eyes, his scarred face hard, yet serene. Gone were the carefree grin and excited glint he had once worn as Rogue Leader. 

“I’d love to, but flying with Rogue Squadron is no longer part of my path. Rogue Squadron is your responsibility now, as daunting as that may be. You’ll do fine. I fear I must keep the peace another way,” Luke intoned gently. 

“’How can a warrior bring peace? With each life he takes, he kills a part of himself, distancing himself from humanity. How can he unite humanity when there is no peace within himself? Yet how can he know peace if there is no conflict?’” Tycho’s dry smile held little amusement. “Korue’s Conundrum. I suppose it applies to Jedi as well pilots.” 

Luke nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. Perhaps I should add Alderaanian Philosophy to the praxeum curriculum. I’ll add it to the list of reforms I’m told I need to implement.” 

“Reforms?” Tycho’s lips twitched as a grin tugged at his face, his steely blue eyes dancing in amusement. “I take a certain student didn’t agree with his instructor?”

“Putting it politely.” Luke grinned. “Putting it impolitely, I’m told the Jedi Academy is less challenging eating Twi’lek food.”

“Everything is easy once you’ve been trained by Rogue Squadron. We do the impossible,” Tycho deadpanned as they turned a corner. Luke laughed. “Seriously, talk to Wedge. He has some interesting methods for hammering his people into skilled pilots and team players. He can make a square peg stick in a round hole, even if the peg is a block like Corran. Oh, and you better add Caamasi Philosophy as well, since it’s the foundation of Alderaanian Philosophy.” 

“Funny that you should mention that.” Luke stopped in front of a door, pushing it open to reveal an elaborate throne room full of treasure. Gold coins glistened on the floor, with more piled in the corners. Here, banners carrying the images of several strange looking beasts were erected. The room was occupied by a two humans engaged in close conversation, as well as a Gand, and strangely enough, a Caamasi. 

“Mirax!” Welcoming the dark haired woman into his arms, he pulled her close for a hug. “Did the knight with shining lightsaber rescue his princess locked in the tower,” he teased her. 

“No, instead of a knight, I got this hairy looking pilot.” She fired a mock-glare at Tycho. “I thought you were supposed to keep an eye on him for me and make sure he didn’t do anything stupid, like dye his hair blonde.” 

“Sorry, about that. I was a fool for assuming a Jedi Master could keep him out of trouble.” Laughing, Mirax returned to her husbands arms. 

Eyeing her husband, Tycho straitened his back and squared his shoulders. His voice took on his usual brisk military tone. “Commander Horn, Captain Qyrgg, attention!” 

Reflexively, Corrran Horn let go of his wife and snapped to a position of military attention. Beside him, the Gand assumed a similar pose. “I believe I issued leave to the two of you. Instead, I find myself and the rest of the squadron chasing after the two of you as you leave terror and destruction in your wake. What do you have to say for yourselves?”

“Ooryl is sorry for causing you undue problems, Colonel Tycho,” Ooryl clicked. “But I am not sorry for helping Corran to search the mists for Mirax. I have fulfilled my duty as friend, wingman, and Findsman, even if Qyrgg has neglected his duty to the squadron.” 

“I did what was necessary, sir.” Surprisingly, Corran chose not to add anything beyond this statement in his defense. _He’s changed_. Indeed, Corran stood at attention with ease under Tycho’s hard gaze. Previously, he’d bristle and be unable to restrain himself under such accusations. 

“I’d say you did more then was necessary, you did the impossible. Congratulations, the both of you, for bringing down Tavira’s little pirate ring.” He strode forward to greet each with a handshake and a clap on the shoulder. 

“Sir, I’d like for you to meet Trustant Elegos A’Kla,” Corran motioned to the Caamasi with purple stripping across his downing gold feathers. “I couldn’t have done it with out him.” 

“May the winds of time bring you peace in your days,” Tycho replied, remembering a formality learned in a distant past. He bowed his head towards the Caamasi, then offered his hand. 

“And may the sun of our friendship ripen the harvest of time,” Elegos replied in his soothing voice, bowing his head and taking Tycho’s proffered hand. “Outsiders who remember the old greetings are few. You honor me, Colonel Celchu.” 

“For keeping this loose cannon in check, the entire galaxy should honor you, Trustant.” A soft smile lit his face. “My father taught me the greetings many years ago. Using them is a way for me to honor his memory.” 

“The Caamas honor the memory of Johannes Celchu as well. He donated material to several of our colonies and used NovaCom’s resources to provide illicit communications between the settlement on Alderaan and those in other systems.” He smiled. “I wish to speak with you more, Colonel, but for now I shall depart. I am most interested to speak with the Jensaarai and seek their position.” 

“I believe I will join you, Trustant, if you will permit Ooryl to observe your methods?” Ooryl clicked. 

Elegos nodded, “I would welcome a Findsmen’s perspective.” They left, closing the large polished wood doors behind them. 

Floored by the Trustant’s revelation, Tycho stood blinking. His father had always been adamant that following the rules was the only way to construct a peaceful society, and had originally encouraged Tycho to become part of the local constabulary force if he did not wish to be involved with NovaCom. _Little did I know he was presenting a façade the entire time. Although I’m pretty sure his initial outrage at me joining the Imperial Academy was entirely real. _

Shaking his head, Tycho chose to take advantage of the momentary privacy to inquire about Corran’s adventure this past year. Corran began with Mirax’s disappearance many months ago and worked his way through his training at the Academy under Luke. Tycho was intrigued by Corran’s new found skills, and was rather pleased when Corran mentioned that he wished for his Jedi training to function as a tool, rather than dominating his life. _I’d hate to loose Corran. He’s a good pilot, and now the squadron will have a Jedi once more_. After amusing his audience with his tale of sneaking into Corellia and then joining the Invids, Corran began to relate the tales of his life as a pirate. 

“At least you didn’t sleep with that Imperial witch to get your own squadron,” Mirax teased her husband. 

“Well,” Corran drawled reluctantly. 

Mirax punched him hard in the shoulder. “You didn’t, did you? I’ll kill that slimy little...”

“Easy,” Corran caught a blow as it glanced off his shoulder. “Apparently Tavira has an aversion to blondes.” Tycho, a blonde who had felt Tavira’s wrath personally, snorted. “Actually, I ended up in command after a battle against the Rogues.” 

Tycho paled as Corran related the events of the battle over Xa Fel. _I could have killed Corran. I almost _did_ kill Corran_. He only half listened to the rest of Corran’s tale. _What would Wedge say? I almost killed own of my own. I should have realized. I should have recognized the vision he sent me, or even his flying style. _

As Corran concluded his tale, he apparently realized that his audience had other things on their mind. “Mirax, Tycho, what’s wrong?”

“I could have killed you,” Tycho responded hoarsely. “I almost _did_ kill you.” 

“Well, you didn’t. That wasn’t even the closest I came to dying on this little adventure,” Corran said dismissively. Corran rested his hand on Tycho’s shoulder in a forgiving gesture, but Tycho found himself unable to relax. 

He closed his eyes, willing himself to shut out his fears of what could have happened and maintain concentration on the matters at hand. Walling his emotions behind a closed expression, he opened his eyes to see a few tears glisten down Mirax’s cheek. “You let Rogue Squadron try to kill you! What if Wedge had flown that day, or if Tycho had been a little bit better? You’d be dead!” 

“Wedge has certainly nailed me a few times in the sims, Tycho too.” Luke, who had been studying the ornamental reliefs on the walls, broke into the conversation. “But the Force was with Corran that day. As long as he continues to serve the Force, the Force will aid its champion.” He smiled at Mirax and nodded at Tycho, as if trying to lend him reassurance. Mirax’s frown lessened as she studied her husband, but did not entirely disappear. “Actually, I wouldn’t worry so much about Tycho or Wedge vaping you as I would that astromech of Janson’s.” 

Ignoring Tycho’s half-hearted attempt at a laugh, Corran studied Luke skeptically. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” 

The former farmboy’s grin spread. “Very serious. The day that astromech almost blew me out of the sky was the first time as a pilot I realized I wasn’t invincible. I was with the Rogues over Gall, shooting up…”his voiced trailed off and he looked at the door. 

Moments latter the heavy wood door opened, admitting a dark complected woman with a silvery bio-mechanical arm. She stood at attention, dressed in a severe grey uniform with red and gold trim. “I am Colonel Tyresi Gurtt. I am here to negotiate the terms of our surrender.” 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4

They sat in three of the elegantly upholstered chairs that had probably been used by the Moff to seat interplanetary dignitaries at one point in time. Keeping his features expressionless, Tycho faced his equally cool opponent. Corran sat a short distance off to the right of Tycho, willing to help facilitate dialogue between the two Colonels. Mirax had pulled Luke off into a corner, their soft whispers unintelligible to the seated group. 

“Colonel, let it be understood, my people will not submit themselves to the New Republic,” Colonel Gurtt’s clipped words were stated as a fact, rather then a threat. 

“I understand Colonel Gurtt that on a whole, the _Invidious’_ pilots want nothing to do with the New Republic, but I cannot allow you to retain your starfighters knowing that you will be a threat to the New Republic,” Tycho stated, his blue eyes meeting her brown. 

“As I am sure Idanian and Nive have made clear, the retention of our starfighters is non-negotiable. They are our livelihood.” Her eyes fell on Corran. 

“It’s Corran,” Corran offered his former superior with the Invids. 

She her gaze cooled considerably as her eyes narrowed. “It could also be ‘Traitor’, but we are not here to discus such things.” Turning back to Tycho, she said, “We will keep our fighters. We would rather fight and die in them then give them to the New Republic.” 

Tycho ran his hand through his hair, tugging at it slightly out of frustration. “It seems we are at an impasse then, Colonel. I am under orders to eliminate the Invids as a threat to the New Republic, by force if necessary, and you are under orders not to submit your fighters to us.” 

Corran spoke up again, his worlds said stated in the same soothing voice Tycho often associated with Luke. “You must understand Colonel Gurtt, the Invids are very skilled pilots, but the Rogues are more so. If this comes to a battle, without the support of Tavira’s Star Destroyer, you will die, as will your people.” His help none of the boastful pride so commonly used by pilots when referring to their unit’s abilities. _This new Corran is going to take some getting used to. _

Colonel Gurtt nodded, fishing a golden coin from her pocket. “I am aware of that fact, but my condition remains.” 

Absentmindedly, she ran the coin through her metallic fingers, flipping it between knuckles. The clicking of the coin filled the tense silence. Tycho frowned. _If only there was a way to meet both conditions. _

“Colonel Gurtt, I have not been able to see much of Susevfi yet, how do you like the world?” Tycho queried. 

Gurtt’s stone expression cracked, portraying confusion. “Susevfi’s fairly pleasant. The climate is temperate and there’s a pleasant beach about thirty clicks south of Yumfla. Yumfla itself is pretty worn, but not as bad as Courkrus.” 

“So you wouldn’t be averse to staying here?” Tycho leaned forward, looking at Colonel Gurtt intently. 

“What do you have in mind, Colonel Celchu?” 

“The Invids take over the defense of Susevfi. You would be required follow local law and desires, for instance if they chose to ally with the New Republic you would have to go along with it. But you would retain your fighters and start with clean slates.” 

She gazed at Tycho warily. “You speak for the New Republic, how can you be sure the natives on this planet will accept a band of pirates into their midst?” 

“He can’t,” Corran said calmly. “All we can provide you is the opportunity. It will be up to you to prove yourselves worthy of their acceptance.” He smiled slightly. “You have some good people, some real scum too, but most of them aren’t irredeemable. Mentally, I once compared the Invids to what the Rogues would have been like if we’d lost. Maybe you can whip some of these guys into shape and send them our way.” 

“I think not,” Gurtt replied coolly. 

Tycho slapped his knees and leaned back, tugging once again at his hair. _So close, I thought it was the perfect solution_. 

“I doubt any of my people would want to serve in a squadron that brought their downfall,” Gurtt continued on, returning the coin to her pocket. “I do suspect most of them wouldn’t mind a changing to a less dangerous occupation. Your plan has merit, Colonel Celchu. I will speak to Yumfla’s Governor on this matter.” 

“My people and I thank you Colonel,” Tycho put out his hand, smiling. “We wouldn’t have wanted to face you again anymore than you wanted to face us. You have some good pilots and excellent ships.” 

“And we thank you for being reasonable, Colonel.” Gurett smiled at last. “There aren’t many officers of the New Republic who would negotiate with pirates.” She took his hand firmly before standing. “But then, I wouldn’t expect anything less of an Alderaanian.” 

_Our world may have died violently, but we’ll forever be known as pacifists. Even those of us who fight. Maybe our reputation will do what our world could not. _Tycho climbed to his feet as well, ready to escort the Colonel out. Corran stood, and drifted over to where his wife stood. 

“Colonel, before I leave, may have a word, alone?” Colonel Gurrt asked softly. 

Surprised, Tycho motioned her out the heavy doors into the hall, closing them before turning to her. “If this is about Commander Horn…” 

“No. I hold no real ire towards him, but you may want to advise him that several of my people do not hold him in similar regard.” Her voice dropped to a soft whisper. “For your cooperation today, I offer you this: Tavira had a new project in the works. One that would make her far richer then robbing a few transports.”

Tycho’s eyebrows rose. “Do you have any idea what it is and whether she’ll continue with it?”

“Oh, she’ll continue with it, all right. Someone out there is looking for weapons, _unique_ weapons. And they’re offering a lot of money for them. We were told report anything that might be profitable directly to Tavira.” 

Colonel Celchu brought his fist to his mouth, rubbing his lower lip in puzzlement. War was rather popular now, with Warlords taking advantage of the Empire’s fractured state, and free worlds taking up old grudges. Any number of people would like to get their appendages on new weapons technology. “Do you have any clue as to who’s buying or what they’re looking for specifically?” 

Gurtt shrugged. “I know nothing else. Personally, I thought it was the New Republic laying traps for Tavira and quietly inquiring about her Jensaarai advisers. But now I see you had other methods of gathering information.” She drew herself into a position of attention and gave Tycho a crisp salute. “Colonel, I trust you’ll use this information productively. It has been a pleasure. Perhaps we’ll meet again.” 

Tycho returned her salute and watched her stride down the hall, disappearing down an adjacent corridor. Head bowed in thought, he returned to the audience chamber. _I wonder who is causing trouble now. And how much will they cause. _

“Congratulations on the negotiations,” Luke offered as he entered the room. “I only hope that we will be as successful with the Jensaarai. Speaking of which, we should probably check on Elegos.” 

“Hold on, Master. I need to speak with the Colonel. I’ll catch up to in a bit.” Corran motioned for Mirax to follow Luke. When they were out of hearing ranged, he turned to face Tycho. “You don’t have to be sorry about the Xa Fel thing. I was my fault for getting into that situation in the first place.” 

“I just don’t like the idea I almost killed a friend,” Celchu replied, washing his hands over his face. _It’s been a long few months, and an even longer day_. 

Corran grinned. “I thought you wanted to kill Janson on a daily basis.” 

Tycho responded with a snort, allowing the subject change. “To hear him tell it, I do. Honestly, he’s not as bad under me was he is under Wedge. I don’t know if he still thinks I’m an Imperial secretly trying kill him or if he’s just aware I won’t let him get away with as much.” 

The blonde Jedi laughed. “He’s probably lulling you into ease before springing some Death Star scale prank. Speaking of the squadron, any chance of me getting my position back?”

“Not with that beard, there isn’t,” Tycho said straight-faced. Corran scratched at his new facial hair and opened his mouth, but Tycho cutoff any retort. “I had two spots open going in today, and now I have two more. You’re can even have your choice of call sign.”

“I’ll keep the Nine, thanks. Anything else is too much for my brain to process. If the two empties were me and Ooryl, who did we loose?” 

Tycho sighed and leaned against a relief on the wall depicting some ancient battle. “We lost Vurrulf.” 

“Kriff,” Corran said softly. The Klatooinian had flown multiple missions in Corran’s flight before Horn had left. “Who else?” 

“A rookie named Temsca Dambi. You never knew her; she replaced Myn about a month after you left.” _Another young pilot killed before she even had a chance to shine_. 

“Myn’s dead?” Corran’s brow rose as surprise overrode sadness in his voice. 

“No, fortunately not,” Tycho forced a smile on his face, his thoughts still on the newly dead. “He took a lucrative piloting contract with Slane Transportation out of Corellia.” 

The former CorSec officer frowned. “I’ve never heard of it. I hope he isn’t getting himself into trouble.” 

“He’s a Wraith trained by Wes Janson and Hobbie Klivian, what else would he be doing?” Tycho asked dryly. 

“Right. Well, I’ve got a few things I still need to sort out with Master Skywalker and Mirax, well, I just got her back…” His voice trailed off, pleading. 

“And you want to spend time with her. Got it. Take your time; I’ll keep your spot open. Ooryl can manage without you for a while. We’ll be taking the _Venture _as far as Chandrilla and then meet up with _Home One_. We’ve been promised two weeks leave on Coruscant after that. You have until our leave is up to get back to the squad or you’ll be pealing tubers with Janson.” 

“What did he do now?” 

“Nothing, yet,” Tycho shot over his shoulder as exited the room, heading back towards his X-Wing. 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5

The _Pirate’s Chest_ was a small cantina on the _Errant Venture’s_ Blue Level. Like many of its dirt-side brethren, its usual clientele consisted of a variety of unsavory characters from a wide range of species. However, thanks to a lucky strike to a power conduit by the _Invidious_, anyone who wanted a drink was forced to patronize this, the only operational cantina. 

Hobbie Klivian worked his way through the crowd, ducking under a wheezing air scrubber hopelessly trying to purge the dark cloud of ciggarra smoke and spice. Finally, after accidentally tripping an intoxicated Gran, Hobbie pushed his way up to the crowded bar. “Two lums,” he shouted, holding up two fingers. 

The Rogues had decided to ship to Chandrilla on the flying smuggler’s den. It gave the Rogues a chance to rest and Tycho a chance to finish explaining to Booster that he in fact, did not scare away Tavira. Booster was still steadfastly denying that Corran could have possibly scared her away with a vision, despite Tycho’s halfhearted attempts to convince him of the contrary. Still tired from the heated space battle, Hobbie thought it was a good time for a drink. 

The black fur on the Togorian working the counter rose slightly in disgust as he heavily set down two topless bottles, spilling a bit of the warm liquid on the counter as he did. “Keep the change,” Hobbie muttered, scooping up the bottles and throwing a couple of credits on the bar. 

Rising up on the balls of his feet, he tried to plot a course back to the dilapidated table that Wes was saving. Above a sashaying Twi’lek waitress, he saw a hand wave, gesturing him towards a crowed counter near the holoscreen. Trying to avoid any lethal confrontations, he carefully picked his way over to a pair of humans seated at the end of the counter. 

“Gavin, I see you’re braving the crowds for a bit of refreshment,” Hobbie teased the younger pilot. “I thought Darklighters were afraid of civilization and rarely ventured into crowds greater then twelve.” 

Gavin grinned at him, his dark mustache and goatee emphasizing the curves of his smile. “Nah, we’re just afraid of running into the crazy roikas that society occasionally produces, but after you and Wes, what could be worse?” The brunette next to him snorted, still staring ahead at the blank holoscreen. “Besides, what self-respecting farmboy or farmgirl,” he nodded to his Agamarian companion, “would miss the Malastare Swoop Championship?” He swung his hand outward, gesturing with his lominale to the holoscreen. 

“If the kriffin’ thing ever works,” Reme Pollar muttered, still staring ahead, as if she would miss a crucial event by looking away. Abruptly, she stood on the rungs of her stool, leaning to the right to see around the screen. “What’s keepin’ y’all?” she hollered. “If you don’t get this thing going, we’re gonna miss Tazy Gonrr’s pre-race interview! Just plug the kriffin’ wire, whoa!” 

In her exuberance, she had leaned a bit too far, sending the stool and herself toppling towards the floor. Hobbie reached out, catching her against his right arm and shoulder. “Oof.” Lum from the bottles in his hands sloshed onto the floor and down the front of Reme’s tunic. He steadied her, face reddening slightly as he registered his mess. 

Gavin laughed. “Not too often you see someone crash into Hobbie, instead of the other way around.” 

Reme blushed red. “Sorry Major, my fault entirely. It’s just if I don’t get to see Tazy’s face without his helmet on before each race, I think I might just burst.” She turned away, rubbing furiously at her tunic with a cocktail napkin. 

“Sorry about the tunic,” Hobbie offered. “Booster’s holo hook-up blow or something?” 

“Oh, the tunic’s fine.” The golden yellow stain was obvious even in the dim light of the cantina. “It’s had worse than this all over it.” At Gavin and Hobbie’s raised brows, she expanded. “It’s my lucky racin’ tunic. Never lost a race in it, and I’ve watched everyone of Tazy’s races in it. You know, sometimes the celebratin’ gets to be a little much, or that last mynock you passed slipped a nasty surprise in your way, so there’s been worse things on it than a little bit of the Major’s lum.” She winked at Hobbie. 

He cleared his throat. “Actually, that’ll be Wes’s bottle. Can’t you just find another screen?” 

Gavin shrugged. “It was working fine a few minutes ago. According to one of the techs, it’s not a problem with the _Venture’s_ receiver, surprisingly enough. So they’re checking to see if it’s the screen or the Holocorp’s problem.” 

“Zit appearz to be a problem with ze zender,” buzzed an insecticidal alien as it cleared the corner of the holoscreen. Its antennae bobbed, as if nodding. “Ze channel iz off juzt a bit.” It clicked on pointed rear legs to a nearby table, snatching up four empty cans of sitash, one in each pincer. “Perhapz thiz will be of azziztance.” Placing a can on each antenna, he rammed the other two into an exposed holotransmition line. The screen flickered to life as the stench of ozone filled the air, and then died again. “It iz of no uze.” The tech stumbled drunkenly away from the line, allowing the cans to fall. “At leazt it tazted good.” The three pilots stared, jaws opened as the tech meandered off into the crowd. 

“About them roikas,” Gavin said softly, his voice barely audible over the din. “I think we just found one crazier.” 

It took a few moments for Hobbie to find his voice again. “Well, the two of you are welcome to join Wes and me. We’ve got a large table towards the front.” 

“We’ll be over in a bit if this thing doesn’t start working.” Just then, the screen sprang to life over Gavin’s shoulder. He spun, immediately absorbed in the race. 

“Oh,” Reme squealed. “Look! Tazy is ahead already!” Drink long forgotten, she leaned on the counter, caught up in the noisy thrum of the swoop bikes. 

_So nice to know the rest of the galaxy is crazy as well. _He picked his way carefully back to where a disgruntled Wes sat staring off into the crowd. 

“It’s about time you got those drinks.” He studied the half-empty lum bottle that Hobbie handed him, holding it up to the light before finally taking a swig. “At least I know it went to a worthy cause.” He returned to staring into the busy throng. 

“Huh?” Hobbie said as he dropped into a hard durplast chair coated in grimy paste. 

“I saw you dump my lum down Reme’s tunic. Making the moves already? I thought we established that we had to wait at least two years before we started hitting on the new kids in the squadron. Good idea with the lum, though.” 

_What is he staring at anyway? _Amidst the crowd, he could make out a trim woman with familiar brown hair that had a blue forelock seated at a small table near the wall. She had her datapad cradled in her lap, furiously using its keyboard entry feature. _Ah, I see. _

“First, I was not hitting on Reme,” he ticked his point off on his fingers. “Secondly, _you_ made that rule after I asked you the last time what you were waiting for. Thirdly, just go over there and ask Inyri if you can buy her a drink already!” 

Wes jumped as if jolted by electricity. His baby-faced features momentarily slipped into a childish state of fear. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He crossed his arms in mock indignation. 

“You are staring at Inyri.” 

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Fine. You’re not staring at Inyri.” Hobbie ran his hand through is short sandy hair out of frustration. “Say, I saw a couple of Bothan females on my way to the bar. Spacers by the look of them. What do you say we go over there and…” 

Wes waved his hand dismissively. “I think I’m off Bothans for a while, what with all that poodoo we’ve been putting up with from Fey’la. Besides, you’ll just lose their comlink numbers again.” 

“_You_ lost them.”

“No, you did.” 

“Fine. I lost them. And you used it as an excuse to hit on Reina, so it’s my turn now.” Hobbie rose, straightening the shoulders of his blue tunic. He grabbed his drink and strode through the crowd in Inyri’s direction. 

“Wait! Hobbie!” He could hear Wes’ panicked voice behind him. Hobbie glanced back to see Wes standing stricken by their table. _Good, it’s his turn to sweat a little. Payback for all those girls he chased away from me._ He continued towards Inyri, who was oblivious to his approach. 

Just as he was within speaking distance, he turned swiftly and sat instead across from a calico furred humanoid. She wore a sleek spacer’s jumpsuit that accented her fluid form. The female Devaronian looked up at him from her drink, startled. “Hello, I saw you sitting her alone and I thought you might like some company,” Hobbie said with his most charming smile. 

Her lips broke into a sly smile, barring fanged incisors in addition to human style teeth. “I am waiting for a friend, but you are welcomed to join me until she arrives. Unexpected visitors are considered most fortuitous in my culture.” She waved her fingers in a complex circular pattern. “I am Nanner.” 

“Derek, but my friends call me Hobbie.” They sat a moment in awkward silence, sipping their drinks. Around them, the noise of the cantina continued, Reme’s shouts and jeers clearly audible over even the loudest drunken boasting. “So, what brings you to the _Errant Venture_? I thought Devaronian females stayed pretty close to home.” 

“We do,” she fiddled with her drink, turning it exactly seven times to the right, and then to the left. “Usually we are content to stay home and see to the business of Devaron and our families, while the males roam and work. However, prospective mates have become fewer and fewer recently, so I decided to look off world. I have taken a job in the Smuggler’s Alliance in hopes of meeting a nice mate.” 

“I wouldn’t consider the _Venture_ as the best place to find a nice mate.” 

“I found you, didn’t I?” Hobbie felt his eyes widen in panic. She laughed, baring her incisor once more. “I do not mean as a mate. As a nice being. The Elder’s rules are strict on such matters, even stricter then those on the Precepts of Luck.” 

It was Hobbie’s turn to laugh. “Precepts of Luck, eh? And here I thought Elassar was just another crazy Wraith.”   
  
Nanner gazed at him intently. “You know of an Offworlder who practices the Precepts?” 

“Err, I know a Devaronian male whose crazier than most, why?” 

“This is a most fortuitous meeting, indeed.” She looked up, suddenly distracted. “Oh, there is my partner now.” 

A black haired woman approached their table, a black stylized thorn vine following the curve of her left eye socket. Her face held an expression of fear before it disappeared behind a cloak of cold business. She stepped up the table, her hand on her blaster. “Nanner! What in the Emperor’s Black Bones do you think you’re doing!” she hissed. “What have I told you…just come on!” Pulling on Nanner’s arm, she turned to Hobbie with a chilling glare. “Well, get lost!” The pair of females jostled their way out of the cantina, Nanner waving back as she left. 

“Well, that was interesting.” Hobbie turned to find Wes standing a short distance behind him. “So, what was that about?” 

“I have no clue, but I have a bad feeling about this,” Hobbie said quietly, watching their retreat. 

“You always have bad feelings. Bad piloting skills too. What say we go dull them some more with another drink?” 

Seated once more at their table with fresh drinks, they were surprised when Tycho joined them. _Sith, he looks tired_. Tycho’s normally military posture had wilted a bit, his shoulders cocked in a ‘don’t bother me’ stance. The frown on his aristocratic features made him look particularly imposing. “Here,” Hobbie offered Tycho his drink as the Colonel slumped into a chair. “You need it more then I do.” 

“Thanks.” He took a long draught, and sighed. “I gave up on Booster. Let Corran deal with it.” 

“What’s this? The mighty Colonel listens to the advice of a mere Major? Surely I must be hearing things!” Wes made an exaggerated show of cleaning out his ears. 

Tycho glared at him. “I thought you were going to use Booster’s ignorance as a ‘Welcome Back Prank’ on Corran.” 

“Would I do that?” Wes smiled innocently. “Besides, I have other things to do.” 

“Like?” Tycho asked expectantly. 

Wes got to his feet and placed a knee on the table, carefully standing on the rickety surface. 

“Oh no, we’re doomed,” Hobbie muttered, burying his head in his hands.

“Ladies and Gentlebeings, can I have your attention!” Wes shouted at the top his lungs. “A toast! A toast to fallen comrades, Vulruff and Temsca Dambi!” 

Many of the cantina’s patrons glared at the man on the table and went back to what they were doing. But many more raised their glasses, intoning the names of the dead. The Rogues present stood, honoring their own. Wes returned to his seat, a satisfied smile on his face. He nodded to Tycho, “Now I’m done.” A small smile took hold on Tycho’s tired features. 

Hobbie lifted his glass again. “To Wes Janson, the craziest roika in the galaxy.” 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6

“Aww, come on Captain. We’ve got time for a drink. Fly in, grab a cold one, and fly back out. Command will never know!” The wheedling voice came from Xaana, often called ‘Pint’, over in Red Skies Seven. 

The green-brown world of Commenor below them did look inviting, but Red Skies had a mission to accomplish, one that did not involve stopping for ‘a cold one.’ Captain Jaru Leean sighed and flipped his comm over to Tactical 1. “Pint, I don’t know what the call it in the Duros Armed Forces, but here they call it ‘Dereliction of Duty.’ You can live without your drink for another few hours. Sensors, got anything?” 

“Same old, same old,” called out a bored voice. “A couple of transports, a couple of planetary defense craft. Nada on smugglers, Imps, or anything else exciting.” 

Commenor was the last leg of a long patrol through the Colony Worlds for Red Skies Squadron. After several weeks of grueling, boring flying from outpost to outpost, they were finally returning to the Fleet. “Alright, then. Let’s pack it up and get back to Fleet.” A chorus of cheers greeted Jaru’s pronouncement. 

“Then can I get my drink?” asked Pint hopefully

“Then you can get your drink.” Jaru smiled. “And if you don’t bottle the comm speak, you can buy me one, too.” 

“Yessir!” 

_Pilots_, Jaru mused plotting their exit vector. The small screen astronav computer showed their outbound vector taking them through the corridor between Commenor and its moon, Folor and then out of system towards the Core. “Okay guys,” he said thumbing the transmit button, “here’s our course. Careful in traffic lanes, I’d hate to have to explain a squadron’s worth of tickets to Command.” 

The twelve X-Wings set their S-Foils to their closed cruise position and sped off, threading their way through the lines of transports slowly crawling inbound towards the surface. As they closed in on Folor, three of the Red Skies waggled their wingtips, saluting the solitary Folor Base where they had been trained. “Sith, I hated that place,” muttered one pilot, which one Jaru couldn’t tell. 

He grinned. “Well, you’re not a trainee anymore, so let’s snap it up and show those guys you actually learned something. Three Diamonds Parade Formation. One…Two…Three…Snap!” The twelve X-Wings spread out into three diamonds, with one X-Wing at each point. Ten of the X-Wings arrived into position simultaneously, two did not. “A bit sloppy. Nine and Eight, you’re going to be on parade duty if you keep this up.” 

“Sorry sir,” came a confused hiss from Nine. “The comm went out as you were giving the order. We didn’t here it until it was too late.” 

“Excuses, excuses.” 

“Sir, she’s correct,” Eight interrupted. “The comm fizzed out. Probably a gremlin.” 

Captain Leean frowned. _Something’s not right_. Random mechanical failures, nicknamed gremlins, were common in complex systems such as starfighters as it was impossible to catch every problem every time unless you had two years and a colony of Verpines on hand. But rarely did the same gremlin attack more than one ship. “Sensors, did you pick up anything odd a moment ago?”

“Yessir, I’ve got your order on Tac 1, your astromech sending out hyperspace coordinates on Tac A-4, and the usual traffic chatter, but I’ve also got a wide-beam on one of the high-band frequencies. It was issued from a holonet relay back around Commenor. Must have been doing a batch update.” 

_Static from a high-band, that I can understand_. Relieved, Jaru continued to issue orders for the trip back to Chandrilla. “Okay, it looks like you’re off the hook for now. Form up for the run up to hyper.” 

Just then, three small stock freighters shot from over Jaru’s left shoulder, outbound from the system. “Kriffing idiots, watch where you’re going,” yelled Pint, who had to dive to avoid collision. The errant freighters winked into hyperspace in the distance. 

“Keep on course,” Jaru responded calmly. _Just a bunch of spiced up cargo jocks_. “They’ll get there’s someday. Hopefully, they won’t kill anyone else when they do. Countdown to engage.” 

The squadron of fighters engaged their hyperdrives as one, jumping in to the brightly lit realm of hyperspace. Settling into his seat as comfortably as he could, Jaru keyed up his favorite music file. “Avee, wake me ten minutes before reversion.” The droid gave a chipper whistle. Listening to the melody of Zazinvich’s _Hymn of the Hydian_, Jaru drifted off to sleep. 

|o| >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< |o|

A high pitched beeping awoke Captain Leean with a start. Bleary-eyed, he gazed at the countdown for the hyperspace disengage. _Ten minutes before reversion_. “Thanks Avee, that nap did wonders. I feel like I’ve sleep for hours.” 

Avee emitted a set of beeps and chirps that Jaru was forced to rely on the translation screen on his console to interpret. The words scrolling across the screen brought Jaru to a state of full attention. “What do you mean I’ve been asleep for five hours? The jump to Chandrilla was only an hour and a half!” His pulse quickened as adrenaline flooded his system. There was little a pilot could do once in hyperspace; he could either stay his course or prematurely disengage, but that was only if the hyperdrive was functioning. One of the worse fears of a pilot was to be stuck for eternity in the bright streaking nothingness of hyperspace. 

“Wait, these coordinates aren’t right. Avee, where are we going? I’ve never heard of the Moonflower Nebulae and I sure in Kessel didn’t give you the coordinates for it.” A sinking sensation filled his gut. _I just need to figure out where we’re going and turn this ship around. I hope the squadron doesn’t panic when they get to Chandrilla without me_. He frowned, and swiped at the sweat on his brow only to have his gloved hand bounce off his orange eyeshield. “Avee, are these the coordinates you transmitted to the rest of the squadron?” 

At Avee’s affirmative whistle, Jaru didn’t know whether to moan or cheer. “I need you to start plotting a course to Chandrilla. Break it up into as many jumps as necessary with in fuel limits, but make sure all transitions occur in inhabited systems. I’m not feeling too confident in this navicomp.” Placing his hand on the reversion lever, he steeled himself for whatever surprises awaited his squadron. 

When the countdown hit zero, he pulled the lever, halting the star’s pseudomotion. Jaru loosened his harness and turned in his seat, looking port and starboard. Only when he had counted eleven other starfighters did he begin to register the sight surrounding them. 

Delicate tracery of purple webbing stretched across a backdrop of deep blue luminous clouds. Each cloud billowed and churned by an unseen wind, yet their motion was frozen in time, waves and swirls caught in eternity. Golden balls nestled in fluffy, pillows of wisps. All of it glowed with unique beauty. 

“Captain, where are we?” 

“Who cares, it’s beautiful!”

“Please don’t tell me we’re lost.” 

“Now I really need a drink.” 

“Look, look at that! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

Overwhelmed by the sight before him, Jaru took a moment to compose himself before speaking. “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Moonflower Nebulae. It appears we’ve had a slight error in our jump coordinates, so you’ve won a paid sigh-seeing tour. Now come about 180 your orientation, and we’ll make a course correction.” 

“Aww, can’t we stay a while?” 

“Hey, Captain, does this mean we get to tell everyone you got us lost?” 

“Negative, Three. I plan on buying your silence with the first round. Heading will be 1-1-0-8. Transmitting corrected course now.” He smiled as he thumbed the button next to the navicomp screen, visually checking that the numbers were correct this time. 

“Hey, look at that! Three o’clock, 250 klicks.” This time the pilot’s voice held no wonder, only shear panic. 

Alarmed, Jaru glanced in the direction indicated. From the delicate mists, a large bulky shape appeared. Its long body came to a dewback shaped head with a large hexagonal flair in the rear for the engines. Jaru’s mouth dried, knowing that each of the blisters along the creature’s sides were gun emplacements. _An Old Republic Dreadnaught. What is it doing all the way out here?_

“Sir, we’ve got two more inbound at twelve and nine. They’re blocking our escape vector!” 

“Sir, it’s those crazy freighters! I’ve got their IFFs on the board. It appears they’ve docked with one of the Dreadnaughts.” 

“Sir, what are they doing?”

“Captain, what’s the plan?” 

Shaking the myriad of demanding voices out of his head, Jaru snarled into the comm “Listen up and shut up. Continue current heading. If they’re friendly, they’ll let us by. If not, well, better set S-Foils to attack position now. If they start charging lasers, we’ll go to torps and take out the Dreadnaught blocking our vector.” He took a deep breath and suited actions to words, activating his S-Foil motivators. 

“Sir! It’s too late, the lasers are…” The comm hissed and crackled as bright green light lanced through the purple lace. 

It was indeed too late for the pilots of Red Skies Squadron. 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 7

“Still, it is a disgrace to the New Republic to allow such villainous scum to grace its ranks!” Nrin’s indignant outrage was apparent even over his static filled comm. 

Tycho leaned back his head as far as his helmet allowed and rolled his eyes. “Four, I thought we agreed to leave this on the _Venture_.” Annoyed with Nrin’s stance on the Invid issue, he took his mind off the subject by concentrating on scanning his sensor board for any sign of _Home One_. The _Venture_ had dropped them off a system away, allowing the Rogues the make a short jump to Chandrilla alone. As they closed in on the turquoise planet, there was still no sign of Admiral Ackbar’s personal flagship. 

“Colonel, as an Alderaanian, surely you realize the importance of an open discussion on the implications of such a dreadful mistake.” _My mistake, you mean._ Shaking his head, he ignored the Quarren. 

“Major, I beg to differ,” Twelve spoke calmly. Gul d’al Ghufran had been rebutting Nrin’s arguments since leaving Susevifi, only raising her voice twice but never breaking her polite manner. Tycho felt grateful for her support. _She saves me the trouble of arguing with Nrin, and I know she’s too honest to being doing it to get in my favor. _

Ghufran continued. “By allowing the Invids to have a place in the New Republic, we have spun the first thread of forgiveness. They now have a chance to spin the first thread of trust. It is only when the weft of forgiveness and the warp of trust come together that the blanket of redemption can be woven.” 

“A blanket no matter how finely woven can still be stained when submerged in a sea of stagnant filth!” 

“Guys, I really hate to break up the metaphor fest,” Wes’ amused voice broke in, “but we’ve got a capital ship coming on sensors from behind Chandrilla. M90 Class registering as the _Galactic_ _Voyager_.” A large, sleek ship emerged from Chandrilla’s night side like great sea creature rising from the planet’s seas. 

“Rogue Squadron, GV Control. Welcome back. You’re cleared for landing in the main hanger.” A gravelly, unfamiliar voice broke over the comm. 

“Control, this is Rogue Leader. I read you. ETA 15 minutes.” Tycho flipped his comm back to the squadron channel. “Looks like the Admiral has a new flagship. We’re cleared for landing. Be careful, I’d hate to have to explain to the Admiral why his new deck is scratched.” 

|o| >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< |o|

The Admiral’s new deck was already scratched. Stained and dented as well, but such was the fate of the deck of any operational warship. The main hanger bay was filled with the whine of repulsorlifts and the occasional blast of an engine being tested. Eight squadrons of starfighters ranging from small, quick A-Wings to newer, heavier duty E-Wings already packed the three decking areas. Rogues Squadron had been directed to land on the main deck, in a position near the magcon field usually reserved for squadrons assigned to first response duty. 

When the nine X-Wings nestled safely in position, a swarm of tan clad techs attacked the ships, beginning the arduous process of bringing them up to clean fighter status within a matter of hours. A pinked skinned Twi’lek approached Tycho’s X-wing, pushing up a standard pilot’s ladder. 

“Koyi, good to see you!” Tycho climbed down the ladder, tugging at his helmet with one hand. Prying it free, it was abruptly snatched up by the tech. 

“Colonel, I would say likewise, but usually when a pilot says that it means I have work to do.” She surveyed the X-Wing, noting the carbon deposits along the torpedo runs and the scoring along the port S-Foil. “It doesn’t look too bad, but the tone of your voice would suggest otherwise.” Her brows knit in concern while the lekku wrapped around her neck twitched in an indeterminable rhythm. 

“My ship is fine, but I would appreciate it if you could take a hydrospanner to that fiancé of yours.” He grabbed his helmet back from her, stroking a bit of dirt from the blue New Republic emblem. “I can take care of this.” 

“I may have a degree in astrophysics, but even I don’t always understand Nrin.” Her eyes dropped and she reddened slightly. “He’s been opening up a lot more to me since we became engaged. I’ll talk to him about leaving you alone.” 

He smiled. “Thanks. He has a point, but he doesn’t know when to drop the issue.”

She snorted. “It seems to be a defect common in Rogue Squadron. A Rogue never knows when to drop a lost cause. And they never know when to get out the techs’ way.” Koyi grabbed the helmet forcefully out of Tycho’s hands. “Go on, Admiral Ackbar wants to see you immediately. If rumors are true that you’ve been hanging out on the _Venture_, I’ll need to go through these ships top to bottom to make sure Booster’s techs haven’t screwed anything up. Go on, get out of here.” 

Holding his hands up in surrender, he allowed her to shoo him to corridor leading to the ready rooms. Changing into the rumpled day-uniform from his pilot’s bag, he made his way to the ships bridge. The bridge was fairly sedate, with a few officers clustered around a terminal, discussing the latest glitch, but most stared at their terminals with glazed eyes. Tycho approached the Mon Calamari hovering over a terminal located in the row nearest the command chair. 

“Colonel Celchu reporting as ordered, sir.” He preformed a precise salute, holding it until it Admiral Ackbar returned it. 

“Colonel, welcome back,” Ackbar wheezed gravelly. “I congratulate you on your success with the Invids.” 

Fighting down old irritation with the Admiral, Tycho accepted the complement. “Thank you, sir. We couldn’t have done it without the Jedi and the _Errant Venture_, though.” 

The Admiral nodded and motioned for Tycho to follow him. They strode together down the white curving corridors. It wasn’t until they entered a small, private conference room and the door sealed behind them did the Admiral respond. “I understand Commander Horn’s new skills were of great use.” 

Tycho blinked in surprise. _He’s not suppose to know about that._ “Yes, sir.” 

The Admiral’s mouth opened in an approximation of a smile. “Master Skywalker was kind enough to pass along a supplementary report. He mentioned the Commander would be returning with you, but I did not see his X-Wing present, unless he finally obtained a suitable paint job.” 

“No, sir. He wished to spend some time with his wife. He will be returning to us before our leave on Coruscant is up.” He studied the Admiral. “That’s assuming we still get leave.” _The Admiral is cleaver enough I wouldn’t put it past him to keep me away a little longer_. 

“You will get your leave, but I’m afraid it will have to wait a day or two. I need Rogue Squadron to investigate the disappearance of an X-Wing squadron in the Commenor System. Red Skies Squadron was scheduled to arrive here several days ago, but they never appeared. Reports indicate they last were seen patrolling Commenor as planned. I want you to swing through the system to see if there are any signs of their whereabouts on your way back to Coruscant.” He waved towards a projection showing a map of the Core and Midrim. 

“Yes, sir.” Tycho drew himself to his full height, wanting to speak with the Admiral about a matter that had been bothering him for sometime. “Sir, one more thing if I might.” The Admiral nodded permission, but as Tycho studied Admiral Ackbar, the officer with whom he had entrusted his life again and again, he hesitated and changed his mind. Instead, he brought up what he had learned from the Invids. “Colonel Gurtt warned me that someone out there is willing to pay a lot of money for _unique_ weapons.” 

A rubbery hiss issued from the Admiral. “Unfortunately, there is always the chance there is another one of Palpatine’s toys lurking in the depths. With the recent revelation of the Maw facility and the Sun Crusher, it is no surprise to learn that there are people actively seeking out more of these abominations. I will alert General Cracken, but I suspect he is already aware of the situation.” 

The Admiral brought a datapad out of his uniform pocket and fumbled with it, his flippered hands having difficulty with the human style controls. “Ah yes, I forgot to inform you that I have taken the liberty of assigning you two new pilots.” 

Tycho bristled. “Forgive me, sir, but I would prefer to choose my own replacements.” 

“I am aware of that; however I believe you will find my choices adequate.” He handed Tycho two datacards. “They will join you on your trip to Commenor so they may adjust as quickly as possible. Enjoy your leave Colonel. I will speak to you on your return.” 

Tycho’s voice was hard when he responded. “Thank you, sir.” Tycho paused as he made to turn towards the door. “Congratulations on your new flagship, Admiral. She is much larger than the _Home One_. Am I to assume you are regretting giving the _Lusankya_ to General Antilles?” He offered the Admiral a tight smile. 

A rubbery popping noise issued from the Admiral; a Mon Calamari laugh. “However much I prefer flying larger vessels, I detest Imperial craftsmanship. It is General Antilles’ fault we have that ship, so she is the General’s responsibility. I shall just have to keep insisting on new flagships until we can build one to surpass it.” 

Taking his leave from the Admiral, Tycho frowned as he strode back to the hanger deck. A curious thought had struck him. _At what point does a large warship become a superweapon?_ _And if Tavira fears the _Lusankya_, to what lengths will she go to conquer that fear?_


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 8_

“I left my heart on Commenor, that night she threw me out the door. Oh, I don’t know where I’ll be found…” Wes crooned over Two Flight’s frequency as the squadron drifted over the dull grey world of Commenor. 

“You’ll find yourself under my lasers if you don’t shut up,” growled Inyri. 

“As long as I find myself under you, the lasers are optional,” Janson shot back with a grin. His comment was met with unusual silence. Looking at the comm board, he realized Inyri had switched to the private channel she shared with her wingmate, Reme. His grin widening evilly, he flipped his comm. 

“…jumped up Sithing Ewok,” Inyri fumed. 

“I don’t know, he seems pretty sweet. That toast back on the Venture was somethin’,” responded Reme. 

“I’d vape his sweet six if I wasn’t afraid of being court-martialed,” Inyri muttered, animosity pouring from her voice. 

“Yeah, it’d be a shame to have to send her back home to Kessel,” Wes broke in. 

“Janson!” Her shout blasted static through his headset, making him cringe as he quickly shifted channels to that of his own wingpairing. 

Gazing down at Commenor, he sighed and doubled checked his scanners. The Rogues had been in system for more than an hour and there was still no sign of the missing Red Skies. Checking to see that the X-Wing was still scanning its automated search grid, he opened the channel to his wingmate. “So, Alinn, right? What do you think of the Rogues so far?” 

“Yessir. It’s different, sir.” His new wingmate’s voice came over the comm with the military crispness he usually associated with Tycho. “Sir, not to question your judgment, sir, but should would be using the comm channels like this?” Wes winced. _ Oh, oh, a female version of Rookie Tycho. We’ll have to do something about this. _

“Alinn, you’ll quickly find that everyone in this squadron questions my judgment. As for the comm, Ooryl ran a sensor pass on the comm waves when we entered, so any chit-chat shouldn’t hamper our progress. As an added bonus, the wingpair signals are pretty weak, so we shouldn’t have to worry about being monitored. The worst that could happen is that the evil Gamorrean Sith Lord in the Tycho suit could eavesdrop and sentence us all to eternal tuber pealing.” He waited a moment, and when Tycho didn’t respond, he continued. “See, perfectly safe.” 

“If you say so, sir.” Alinn didn’t sound quite convinced. 

“What’s with all this ‘sir’ nonsense? You don’t have to be so formal.” 

“Sorry, err, Five. My father insists I exercise proper decorum.” 

Wes frowned slightly. “You father is Commander Varth, isn’t he?” Commander Varth was an A-Wing Wing Commander known for being one of the most cantankerous, stubborn pilots in the New Republic, as well as one of the most skillful and tactically brilliant. 

“Yessir,” she replied, almost apologetically. 

“Well, call me ‘Wes’ or ‘Janson’ or ‘Crazy Man’ or anything else you want, but only call me ‘sir’ when necessary. I have a reputation to uphold, and it won’t do me any good if you keep calling me ‘sir’,” he demanded in a mocking manner. 

“Yes, um, Wes. I’ll try.” She hesitated. “Actually, I’m horrible with names, so I try to avoid using them.”

He chuckled. “Well, if you don’t use them, you’ll never learn them.” 

“Usually I give everyone callsigns. It seems to help,” she replied in a small voice. 

“Really?” Wes was intrigued. “What’s mine?” He heard a mutter he couldn’t quite make out. “What was that?”

“Nut, sir,” she said a bit louder. Varth hurried to explain herself. “I didn’t mean it offensively sir, but I heard you call your astromech Bolt and it just seemed to fit…” She trailed off, her fear apparent over the distortion of the comm. 

Wes laughed. “You got it in one; that’s how he got his name. Every nut has its bolt. Congratulations, only three other people have figured that one out. So, who else have you named?” 

“Well, the Gand in Three Flight, he’s Clicks. And the Quarren is Prince.”

Janson grinned. “That’s fitting. Nrin certainly can act like royalty sometimes. What about the Colonel or Major Klivian?” 

“Oh, no,” she sounded shocked that he would suggest such a thing. “I can’t give them callsigns, they’re my superiors. Besides, the Major already has one. Hobbie, right?”

“Yep. There’s a long story behind that one. I’ll tell it to you some other time. Anyone else?”

“Well, there’s Sharps in Seven and Racer in Eight.” 

_Sharps, eh? Well that one certainly fits_. “Well done, Varth. They sound pretty appropriate.”

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Alinn begged. 

“And let an opportunity like this pass?” He could feel his evil grin tugging at the corners of his lips once more. “Don’t worry, I won’t implicate the innocent.” 

Varth was anything but reassured. “Sir, Major, Nut, whoever, please…”

Her plea was interrupted by Tycho. “Five, report. Does your Flight have anything?” 

Wes double checked his scanner and keyed up the results. Punching a few more buttons, he pulled up the results from the rest of Two Flight. “This is Nut, we’re negative on results. Nothing but clear space and lots of freighters.” 

“Nut? Finally admitting defeat?” Tycho queried in a playful voice. 

“Never,” Wes responded, wishing the cockpit was large enough to strike that heroic pose from the Black Bantha. “I am merely using the callsign which has been graciously bestowed on me,” he sniffed. 

“Do I want to know what mine is?”

“Negative, sir.” Wes grinned. Not that he has one, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

“Figures. Three Flight, how about you?” 

Ooryl answered, the clicks of his mandibles coming over the comm as small burst of static. “Three Flight is unable to find anything. Red Skies has disappeared in to mists. If Lead wishes, we can hunt further.”

Before Tycho could respond, Hobbie spoke up. “Boss, I just got through to Commenor Traffic Control. They have record of Red Skies arriving and departing as planned. There was one anomaly on their pass. Apparently they were buzzed by a couple of cargo freighters wanted for smuggling. No altercation, though. Transmitting their last know vector, as well as the I.D. tags on those freighters, now.” 

Wes ignored the numbers flashing by on his screen. While he, like most pilots, could do the math when necessary, he preferred to let Bolt handle it. “So, Lead, are we following their course back to Chandrilla or continuing on to Coruscant?” he questioned. 

“Coruscant,” Tycho stated decisively. “We’ll report in when we arrive and then we have a few weeks leave. Hopefully by then Red Skies will have gotten back from whatever barcrawl they disappeared on. Let the Admiral worry about it.” 

“In a hurry to get back to a certain someone?” Wes teased his friend. 

“You could say that,” Tycho said softly. “I just hope she wants me back.” 

Janson frowned at Tycho’s words and then sighed. _Some of us need this leave more than others._ He cleared his throat and went back to the matter at hand. “Okay, Two Flight. You heard the man, let’s go home.”


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 9

“Yessir, that is all.” Tycho saluted the day officer at Silvante Air Base before turning off the comm. Sighing, he looked into the small mirror above his dresser and straightened the collar of his shirt. Shrugging into his jacket, he picked up the small wrapped box sitting on the bed. Slipping it into his pocket, he walked out his apartment door. 

While most single officers preferred the low cost base housing, Tycho had elected to put a small part of his inherited fortune into an apartment located a good walk from the base. While his Level 5 home was not in one of the better neighborhoods, he liked it for its location. It sat within equal distance from the base as it did from the old Imperial Palace. He could walk to either and take the time to clear his head. _I’m going to need a clear head to deal with tonight. _

Dodging pedestrians along the buys walkways, he entered the soaring Imperial Palace. While no longer Imperial, its name had stuck despite several campaigns to call it something else. Stopping in front of a guard station along one of the upper corridors, he fished out his military I.D. from the inner pocket in his black coat. After receiving clearance, he climbed into an awaiting turbolift. 

Finally, the doors opened to a well-lit corridor that lacked the gaudiness of the rest of the palace. Painting and holos of Alderaanian landscapes hung high on the walls. Twice Tycho could make out artwork of a different sort where cleaning droids hadn’t quite been able to erase the children’s color stick scrawls. At the end of the hall, he knocked on the door. 

“It’s open,” a soft voice called. 

Tycho stepped inside a simple yet elegant suite of rooms. Here, no pictures adorned the wall, as its occupant didn’t need them to remember. Instead, the plain walls were painted in soothing blue and fresh flowers sat in vases far out of the reach of little hands. From the hall leading to the bedroom stepped a woman with long white hair wearing a dark green flowing dress. She smiled. “It’s about time Flyboy.”

“Winter,” Tycho said with a nod. “Sorry I am late. I had trouble with the holocomm when I reported in.” His voice was emotionless, his expression more so. 

She moved towards him hesitantly, her smile slipping to a frown. “Tycho, what’s wrong?” She reached a hand towards him, but withdrew it at his hard gaze. “Tell me.” 

He gave her a wry smile. “I know we set this up a while ago, but I didn’t know if you still wanted to do this.” 

Winter’s frown deepened. “Of course I do. The children are with their parents and you’re on leave. This is the first time we’ve had together in almost a year and I plan on enjoying every minute of it. Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said bitterly, studying the Mon Calamari crystal vase on the bookshelf. “Maybe there’s someone else you’d rather spend time with.” 

“Tycho, what are you talking about?” She stepped forward and took his face in her hand, scrutinizing it. “This isn’t you, this isn’t like you.” 

Jerking away from her, he said scornfully, “I am just supposed to pretend like nothing’s happened? ‘Hello, Winter. I’ve missed you so much and I know you’ve missed me too.’” 

“What’s wrong with you?” She demanded, shocked at his behavior. 

“Perhaps that holographic memory of yours needs a reminder,” he snarled. “The reopening of the Cathedral of Winds, broadcast live throughout the galaxy.” Tycho turned is back to her, facing the door as if contemplating leaving. 

“I don’t…” She trailed off. “Oh,” she said softly. “Tycho, no, it’s not like that at all.” Winter laid a tentative hand on his shoulder, only to have it brushed off as he spun to face her. 

“Then what was it? Your clone holding the Admiral’s hand? Your secrete twin sister flirting with my superior officer? Tell me.” 

“No,” she said coldly. “It was me comforting a friend during a hard time.”

“Is that what they call it these days?” he asked, matching her tone. 

“Ackbar is my _friend_, Tycho Celchu. See if you can understand that. He’s someone who cared enough to call and come visit Anoth just to talk to me. He took pity on a lonely nanny who only had a child for company.” Stepping back, she met his eyes with an icy glare. “You couldn’t even do that.” 

“And how was I supposed to visit? Kidnap Luke and threaten him at blasterpoint? Of course you couldn’t have told ‘Tycho the Traitor’ where it was. It’s not like you trust me or anything.” 

“Han and Leia weren’t even told where their own children were, you know that so don’t you dare go blaming this on _Lusankya_. You could have called instead of leaving a few terse text messages.” Before he could refute her accusation, she cut him off. “And I offered.” 

“Oh yes, I’m going to go off to play house on some rock somewhere in the middle of a galactic war,” he retorted sarcastically. 

“Protecting these children is more important than any war,” she stated softly. “And you would have been with me.” 

Tycho took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Calmly, he spoke, “I wanted to, you know. But I have a responsibility to the squadron. The New Republic needs the Rogues, and I’m their leader. I couldn’t just step down.” 

She studied him, her cool gaze melting slightly. “Wedge left. He finally realized there is life beyond the squadron.” 

A half-smile formed on Tycho’s face. “Yes, but he had me to leave in charge. Can you imagine the squadron with Hobbie or Wes as Rogue Leader?” 

Winter snorted. “Chaos and bacta would reign supreme, but the squadron would survive. It always does.” She took his hand in hers. “You have to learn one thing, Celchu. You’re not irreplaceable anywhere but here.” As she said this, she laid his hand above her left breast. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Tycho said, finally meeting her in the eye. “It was partly because I was busy,” he allowed his hand to drift up from her heart to cup her face as he continued, “but mostly because I knew seeing you and not being able to be with you would have hurt far more than imagining you were happy somewhere.” 

“The problem is I’m not happy without you.” She rose on her toes as she kissed him. Gently breaking the kiss, she pulled back and gazed up at him. “This is the Tycho I know.” 

“I guess I haven’t been myself much lately.” He shot her a smile. “Hobbie noticed enough to buy me a drink and even Wes has been steering clear of me.” 

“See, those two are smarter than you give them credit for. You could let them babysit the squadron for a while.” Her tender lips met his again, quickly this time. 

“And find it in shambles when I got back.” He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. “I did miss you, you know,” he murmured. 

“I missed you too, Flyboy. We’ll have to compare combat stories.” 

He pulled back, loosing his hold but not letting go. “I’ll tell you about Corran’s dashing rescue of Mirax and you can tell me how you changed Anakin’s nappy,” he teased. 

“I’ll tell you about fending off an invasion force and you can tell me about filling out requisition forms,” she shot back playfully. 

Tycho frowned slightly. “That reminds me. I picked you up a gift during my adventures.” Reluctantly letting her go, he brought out the small wrapped box from his jacket. “Go ahead, open it.” 

“What could it be?” She pondered aloud as she unwrapped the gift. “Jewels from Hapes? Kentari silks from Avis? Or,” she stopped in surprise. “A Blastech A380 Compact Stunner.” 

“It’s modified. See, there’s a special safety catch below the trigger. You can undo it one handed, but it’s suppose to be child proof.” He gestured to the small indentation along the trigger guard. “It’s small enough you can always wear it and you don’t have to worry about the children getting a hold of it.” Shrugging, he said, “The fire power isn’t much, but I know you don’t need much to do serious damage. I wanted to get you something that you could use to keep yourself safe when I’m away.” 

“That is probably one of the sweetest present I’ve ever received.” Winter kissed Tycho on the cheek. “I don’t know if the child lock is Jedi child proof, but thank you.” Then she grinned at him slyly. “But I bet you just wanted a chance to see me put it in that leg holster you like so much.” 

Tycho blushed, his face warming. “That, too.” Taking her hands, he pulled her closer and slowly guided her back towards the bedroom. “In fact, I better make sure it fits. I’d hate to buy you a stunner that didn’t fit just right and would hamper your performance.” 

They kissed again, but Winter stopped his forward motion with a hand on his chest. “Wedge is waiting for us at the restaurant.” 

“I’ll call and cancel. He’ll understand,” he murmured as he began to kiss along her jaw line. 

She gave him a light slap on the shoulder. “Save it for later, Flyboy. I think you need to meet Wedge’s girlfriend.” 

Both Tycho’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Wedge has a girlfriend? What did Iella do, drop an X-Wing on his head?” 

“No, not quite.” Winter frowned. “No matter what you think, please try to be civil at dinner. I’ve had enough of the Angry Tycho for one night. Come on.” Grabbing her purse, she led him out of the apartment as he happily trailed after her, a slight look of surprise still on his features. 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 10

_The Mother’s Hearth _was a classy upscale Ithorian restaurant located in the Senate District. Although it catered mostly to Senate staffers wishing to have fancy business lunches, the evening atmosphere more suited that of an officer’s club. Over their years stationed on Coruscant, Wedge and Tycho had adopted this as their place to get away from the more unruly places that pilots were expected to frequent. 

Upon arriving, Winter and Tycho were directed to a familiar table near the back of the restaurant. In between potted bafforr trees, Tycho could make out the stunning view of Coruscant at dusk. A dark haired man was already seated at their table, holding a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. 

“Tycho! Glad you could make it.” Wedge stood, greeting Winter with a hug and Tycho with a back-slapping handshake. 

“Wedge! I thought you had been swallowed by the Maw. It was the only reason I could figure for you being out of the cockpit so long!” Tycho grinned as he pulled out Winter’s chair for her and then seated himself. Skimming the menu, he asked casually, “So what’s new?” 

“I hear they have a new shartesh salad I’m looking forward to trying,” Wedge said slyly. 

Tycho chuckled. While he enjoyed Ithorian food, as it was similar to Alderaanian cuisine, it never ceased to amuse him that Wedge willing chose to eat it. Most of the Corellians Tycho knew, such as Corran and Iella, preferred something with meat. “That’s not what meant, but I knew there must be a reason for you to bully your date into coming here with us.” 

Wedge’s cheeks tinged pink. “I guess Winter told you the news. She was happy to come. I think she picked up a taste for the stuff on our last trip.” 

Tycho frowned. “I thought that Iel…” he broke off as Winter’s pointed heel slammed hard into his toes under the table. She gave him a tiny shake of the head and then returned to her menu. _Okay, I can take a hint_. _Kriff that hurt_. He decided to continue razzing his former superior. “I thought that I would be the first to know when the General finally found himself a girl considering all those blind dates I’ve set up for you in the past.” He sniffed exaggeratedly. “You’d never know there was a difference between an XO and a social secretary.” 

His friend smiled for a second, and then said seriously, “I’m sorry Tycho, I would have told you first but you were away and I was busy and everything was going crazy. It just sort of happened.” He shrugged. 

“I know. It’s too bad we don’t get more time like this to talk but Colonels and Generals have duties. Consider it another reason for you to come back and take this bunch of children off my hands.” 

Wedge laughed. “They’re your problem now. You know, I’ve got a whole Fleet Group to worry about and it’s still less work than keeping an eye on Janson.” 

“Janson I can deal with, it’s the rest of them that are the problem.” 

“You could always try putting them in time out and taking away dessert privileges,” Winter added, folding her menu. Her eyes narrowed deviously as the corners of her mouth curled upward as she looked at Wedge. “Of course, it takes a good strong punch to the jaw to keep the more stubborn ones in line.” 

His eyes widening in mock horror, obviously remembering a prior painful incident, Wedge held his hands up in the air in surrender. As he opened his mouth to speak, a cheerful, musical voice entered the conversation. “Is this an Alderaanian greeting custom then?” 

Tycho turned to see a fragile looking blue woman in a white dress that matched her white feathered hair. Both of her wispy arms were held in the air, mimicking Wedge’s gesture. An inquisitive smile adorned her face. Tycho’s gut chilled as he recognized her as Dr. Qwi Xux, one of the lead designers of the Death Star. _What is she doing here? Wedge’s bodyguard assignment should be done by now. _The woman continued to smile at him despite the fact he could feel his own smile rapidly evaporating. 

“Qwi! Come have a seat,” Wedge jumped to his feet. He guided to the chair on his left, next to Tycho. As Qwi sat, he glanced at Winter and saw her give him warning glare before adopting the smile she used when dealing with politicians. “This is Qwi Xux,” Wedge said as he sat, flushing slightly. “Qwi, I believe you’ve met Winter.” At this, Qwi smiled brightly and nodded. “And this is Tycho,” he said. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you Tycho,” she said warmly. “Wedge has spoken often about you, it’s so good to finally meet you.” 

Tycho nodded, unable to trust his voice enough to reply. 

“So, we should probably decide what to order now that everyone is here,” Winter said, breaking the awkward silence. “I’m going to get the hetii and stuffed kali.” 

They each decided on their order, the conversation focusing on the difference between ckesh sauce and ckesha dressing. Tycho relaxed a bit until after the waiter departed and the conversation turned to less welcomed subjects. 

“Oh, there are so many places I’d like to see,” Qwi responded to Winter’s question. “I would like to see the coral formations on Mon Calamari and the singing groves on Pomgrin. I think I’d like to see Alderaan as well.” Winter blinked, raising her brows, but her smile remained static. “Oh, I mean the Graveyard of course. To pay my respects, and…” Qwi looked to Wedge, who squeezed her hand, “and see the damage I have caused,” she finished quietly. Studying the tablecloth quietly for a moment, she looked back up at Tycho. “Reports indicate that the remains have formed a ring despite no longer having any radial gravitation force to oppose the star’s pull. I am curious to see why it has not yet formed an asteroid belt or a formation of sunskippers. Have you been there since its formation?” 

_Formation_. Throughout her monologue, a quiet rage that he had not felt since he learned to control his temper under Isard’s terrible tutorship began to brew deep in his gut. The last time he had released feelings like this, he had ended up picking a fight with a student group protesting the destruction of the second Death Star. Now he fought to keep his temper in check, schooling his face into a mask of passivity. _Peace. I don’t need to start a fight here. She is not my enemy. I just wish she was._ Concentrating on fulfilling Winter’s request to remain civil, he ignored Qwi’s question, instead fiddling with his mostly empty wine glass. 

“Qwi, will you accompany to the ‘fresher? I’d like to powder my nose before dinner is served,” Winter requested calmly, rising from her chair and grabbing her purse. As the two women left, Tycho half-hoped Winter would choose to try out her new stunner in the fresher. 

“Tycho, I’m sorry about that,” Wedge said softly. “She’s still adjusting. Not having any memories of her own, she doesn’t always realize that people have memories that cause pain. I really think you’ll like her when you get to know her.” 

Tycho snorted. “No, I don’t think I will.” He downed the rest of his wine. 

“I realize you’re upset about her participation in the Death Star Project, but she really didn’t know it would be used on an inhabited planet.” 

At the eagerness in his voice Tycho examined Wedge closely, observing how much straighter he sat, the crinkling near his eyes for once not due to stress but joy, the general happiness in his demeanor. _Sith. Why does he have to like_ her, _of all people_. “Ignoring the part of me that would like to vape her for the sake of our friendship, tell me why I should like her.” 

Wedge sat back in his chair, a dopey grin creeping onto his face. “She’s so… invigorating. Everything around her is new and exciting and I want help her explore it all. She has this innocence around her that makes me feel like I haven’t since before Yavin. When I’m around her, I don’t remember all of the death and destruction.” 

“You once told me that remembering was one of the things that differentiated us from the Imps,” Tycho said calmly, staring out over the darkening expanse of Coruscant. 

“And you once told me I needed to forget once in a while and enjoy life,” Wedge pointed out. 

“I know you want me to like her because you do, but do you love her?” He turned his gaze back to his friend. He could tell Wedge was biting back a scathing retort by the way he compressed his lips. 

Instead of venting, Wedge chose honesty. “I think I do,” he said eventually, frustration in his voice. “I haven’t this way about a woman before. I mean, you know there have been others, but Qwi is different. I think in time,” he said slowly, “there may be the chance it could develop into something like Winter and you.” 

“I don’t think so.” Tycho held up his hand to stop Wedge’s protest. “Qwi doesn’t remind me of Winter. She reminds me of Nyiestra.” 

“And how is that bad?” Wedge ground out, clearly irritated. 

“It wasn’t, once upon a time. I thought I could take on the galaxy by myself, and she was going to be there for me when I got back, ready start our perfect life. But I’ve changed since then. I know she could never understand some of the things I’ve done to fight the Empire, could never understand the sacrifices I made. Tell me, what does Qwi think of your nightmares? How does she react when you wake up screaming the names of your dead friends?” 

Wedge’s brown eyes had darkened and he glared slightly at Tycho for bringing up a sensitive topic. “She doesn’t know. And I she doesn’t need to know.” 

“Winter and I are there for each other and understand each other. We both know we’ve done terrible things so we try to create happy moments to offset the bad. Qwi does not understand and will not, if you continue to try to preserve that innocence you love so much.” He looked Wedge in the eye. “Qwi is not right for you.” 

Running his hands through hair, Wedge looked down, staring through the table. “You’re a lot better at this than Corran.” 

Tycho allowed a small laugh to escape. “I would hope so. Corellians aren’t known for their philosophy, even the ones trained by Corsec.” 

Wedge sighed. “I hear your arguments, but one thing remains: I want to start a new life with her.” 

Tycho leaned back and studied his friend. Eventually, he broke the silence. “Do what you think is right, you always do, and know that you’ll always have friends,” Tycho told him with a wry smile. “Just don’t expect the rest of us to fall in love with her.” 

“You won’t talk Winter into having her killed in the middle of the night or anything?” Wedge joked halfheartedly. 

“Tempting, but no. Although I might alert Mirax to the fact you’re in a relationship with someone unsuited for you.” He grinned evilly. 

Wedge groaned. “Oh, so you’ll just have me killed instead?” He straightened as looked over Tycho’s shoulder, pasting a smile back onto his face. 

Tycho took the hint. “Speaking of Mirax, Corran got her out safe and sound.” 

Nodding, Wedge remarked, “Yes. I received a message from her saying she was all right and would be returning to Coruscant tonight. I invited the two of them to join us, but they had other plans. I also got a message from Booster bragging that he defeated Leonia Tavira?” 

Tycho launched into an explanation as the women returned. Winter raised an eyebrow in question and he gave her a half smile in return_. I don’t like Qwi, but I’m not going to destroy a nine year friendship over her. She’s not worth it. _His tale spun until well after the food arrived and the four of them had cleaned most of their plates. 

Whetting his parched throat with his refilled wine glass, he was surprised to see in the reflection a distorted figure positioned behind him. Silence fell on the table as Wedge ceased his explanation to Qwi of the proper way to drink Whyren’s, an uncertain smile overtaking his face. Turning in his seat, Tycho’s eyes widened in shock as he registered the face of the blonde woman before him. 

“Colonel, we need to talk.” 


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 11

Iella Wessiri stood by the table wearing a day uniform that lacked rank and insignia. She nodded to Winter but ignored the other couple at the table, focusing instead on Tycho. “Sir, your presence is requested at Silvante.” 

Tycho frowned and glanced at Winter. “I don’t suppose this could wait until tomorrow?” 

Wedge smiled warmly at Iella. “Surely whatever Cracken wants can wait a few minutes. Have a seat and join us. They have a good stock of Whyren’s here.” Tycho winced as Wedge rose from his seat, and looked around for an extra chair. Qwi looked on with a large frown on her face. _Military genius, romantic dunce_, _that’s our Wedge_. 

“I think not, General,” she replied icily. “Colonel, I was told to bring you in immediately. I’m sorry for spoiling your evening.” 

Rising, Tycho sighed and threw down his napkin. “Sorry, love. Duty calls.” He bent over kissed Winter lightly on the lips. “I’ll call you when I’m done.” 

“You’d better,” Winter responded, pulling him down for another kiss. “I might need help adjusting that holster,” she whispered saucily. 

He glared her without malice and then turned to his friend, extending his hand. “Wedge, it looks like we’ll have to catch up another time. Clear skies to you.” 

“And you, Tycho. Tell the squadron I miss them, except for Janson of course,” Wedge said distractedly, a puzzled look on his face. 

“Of course.” Tycho nodded in the direction of Wedge’s companion, turning to leave without saying a word to her. Following a few steps behind, he waited until they exited the restaurant before catching up to Iella’s brisk pace. “What’s the situation?” 

“We’ve got intel for you. They didn’t tell me what, just that I should find you and bring you to Generals Cracken and Madine,” she replied tersely, pausing to allow an errant airspeeder to whoosh past. “I really am sorry I broke up your date with Winter, I know how little you get to see her.” 

He sighed. “It’s fine, really. She understands. I’m sure she’ll be waiting for me when I get back.” _It’ll probably be two in the morning, but she’ll be there. I just hope we don’t have to fly out immediately_. 

“Yeah, that’s what I always thought.” Tycho barely caught her utterance over the din of Coruscant’s traffic. 

“What?” he question, but she was already off again. “Where are we going?” He called after her as he increased his stride to catch up. 

“I’ve got a speeder parked a block away. Come on.” She sped up again, Tycho trailing behind her. 

|o| >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< |o|

The room Iella led him to was deep inside Silvante Air Base. A harsh glowpanel lit the cluttered room, illuminating the piles of circuit boards and burned out datapads that littered the tables. A single working display sat on a desk where a blue haired young man punched sporadically at the keyboard. Behind him were two men Tycho recognized on sight. 

“Generals, Colonel Celchu reporting as ordered,” Iella declared as they entered the room. Tycho took a moment to through a salute, which was quickly returned. 

“Ah, good,” exclaimed General Cracken, motioning them both forward. “We have a little something you might find interesting, Colonel. First, I don’t believed you’ve met Crypt Chief Ghent. Ghent, this is Colonel Tycho Celchu of Rogue Leader.” The man at the terminal didn’t respond. Cracken tapped him on the shoulder. His head shot up and he spun in his chair. 

“You’re Rogue Leader? Antilles, right?” He spun in his chair, blue hair flailing, returning to his terminal. “I had one heck of time with your cipher, but that was before that Delta Source thing. Now that was one awesome crypt.” 

General Cracken’s eyes rolled to the ceiling while General Madine just smiled. “What cipher?” Tycho looked to Iella, who appeared as confused as he felt. She just shrugged. 

“Oh, this cipher a few years back. It used an old Isk-Isk crypt but instead of Star Destroyer names, it used a different Antilles for every character. Took me ages to research enough family lines until I could fill in the rest. Do you know how many Antilles there are out there? It took me two whole days to crack that one.” 

_Ahh, this must be the hacker that Winter was telling me about. Brilliant, but dead to the world. _Ghent struck a key with determined glee, eyes nearly blurring as they chased the text scrolling across the screen. “Got it!” He leaned back, a smug smile on his face. 

General Cracken leaned over the display and motioned Tycho closer. “Take a look at this. It showed up as an anomaly within the sludge news traffic.” 

Tycho read the screen, a frown deepening on his face as his gut chilled. 

_Wanted: Any intelligence leading to the obtainment of unique weapons technology will be handsomely rewarded. Bonuses available for information concerning projects generated by Nasdra Magrody or his students. Contact the Defender through mutual channels. _

“This must be what Gurtt was warning me about. Who’s Magrody?” He questioned

“Magrody was Imperial weapons scientist once considered a genius in his field. He went missing a little while ago. Rumor has it that our Madame President had him killed for his participation in the Death Star project,” General Madine explained. 

“Did she?” Iella asked. 

“No, we had been trying to recover him rather than waste his talents,” remarked General Cracken, his attention still on the terminal. He looked back and realized Tycho had been glaring at him. “For non-super class weapons of course.” 

“Of course.” Tycho said, reminded of his earlier thoughts on Admiral Ackbar’s new ship. 

“While rarely directly involved in projects himself, it’s the mention of his student’s work is of more concern,” Madine remarked, running his finger through his beard. “Qwi Xux, Cray Mingla, Ohran Keldor, Bevel Lemelisk, Stinna Draesinge Sha, Rorax Falken. One dead, two now citizens of the New Republic, and three still at large. If any of them have dowries similar to Xux’s, we could be facing a serious threat.” 

_Just what we need, more planets killed like Alderaan and Carida. _“Great. Any clue as to who wants these hypothetical weapons?” 

General Cracken snorted. “Who wouldn’t? The Imps, the Hutts, the Warloards, remnants of Black Sun, probably even elements of the Smuggler’s Alliance. We’ve even got some our own people who were irked enough by the decision to destroy the Sun Crusher that they may try something drastic.” 

“This is where you come in, Colonel. We’d like to keep this quiet, away from the general public. As you already aware of the situation, we’d like for you and the Rogues to try to sniff out who is this ‘Defender’ and determine whether they have succeeded in their acquisition. Your group has the experience and the skills we need.” General Madine slipped a datacard from its reader and handed it to Tycho. 

“I’ve arranged for Rogue squadron to be placed on long patrol duty. You may use Silvante as your home base, but I expect their will be quite a bit of travel involved. Wessiri will be your Intelligence liaison,” Cracken nodded to Iella. “As the message mentions ‘mutual channels,’ I’d start with Terrik or Karrade if I were you.” 

“Mara,” Ghent corrected absently, still studying his screen. “She’s the boss now that Karrade retired.” 

Cracken glowered at the young hacker. “President Organa Solo is your boss now.” 

“I know, but it’s Mara.” Ghent frowned. “Son of a Sith, another hole. Amateurs.” He bent forward over the terminal and continued to mutter under his breath as he typed. “You think they could piggy-back a signal without screwing up the local ‘net, but nooo.” 

“Colonel, I believe we’re done here. Consider this a top priority and your leave cancelled. It is necessary we obtain this information as soon as possible. Good night,” Cracken said, strolling out the door, gesturing for Iella to follow. She shot an apologetic smile towards Tycho and strode after her superior. 

Madine nodded to Tycho. “I’m sorry about your leave Colonel. I myself will be taking a team to start gathering information on the situation as well. May the Force be with you.” 

“And with you, sir,” Tycho said as the General left. He stood for a while, lost in his thoughts, listening to the clatter of Ghent’s terminal. 


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 12

“I’m sorry Celchu, I have no idea who this ‘Defender’ is,” Mara said coolly. The blue holo dulled her red hair but did nothing to dull the fire in her gaze. “Nor do I know anything about Palpatine’s weapons research. I was his aide and assassin, nothing more.” 

Tycho sighed, running his hand through his hair as he leaned forward over his desk. “I don’t mean any offense Captain Jade. I just thought you might have heard rumors about the reward and who issued it. Any idea of who might be looking?” 

She shifted irritably. “I’ve got a whole organization to run; I can’t know what everyone of my people are doing. I suspect some of them might be interested in making some fast credits. I’ll keep my ears open but I’m not starting a Jedi-hunt in my organization just to scare of a few clues about a phony holonet message.” 

Booster snorted from the holo being projected alongside Mara’s. Behind him milled the various denizens of the _Errant Venture_. Tycho had obviously caught him while he was attending to business. “Unlike Jade here, I do happen to keep my ears open. Better than Karrade, I’ll wager.” 

“Does that mean you have information?” Tycho asked hopefully. 

“Only if you have my five tubolasers ready,” Booster responded. 

“Booster!” Tycho cried exasperatedly, throwing his data pad stylus on his desk in disgust. “Why is it when Wedge asks you for information you give it to him and when I ask you want weaponry?” 

“Wedge is family, you’re not,” Booster said flatly, his glare made more effective by his glowing red optical replacement. 

“I don’t know rather to be hurt or glad,” Tycho grumbled. He leaned back in the old ejection seat that served as his chair. “Fine. Will credits do?” 

“They might. How much are we talking?” 

“Don’t give him too much Celchu,” Jade scowled. “If he racks up a fortune from this, I’ll never hear the end of it. Karrade will be so embarrassed he’ll come out of retirement to save his reputation.” 

Ignoring Mara, he addressed Booster. “I’ve got a credit line that Cracken set up. You can pull what you deem ‘fair compensation.’ Unless, that is, Cracken forecloses it.” 

“In other words, only what credits I can smuggle from under that slimy gundark’s nose. Fine, I’ll take it. When do you want me to set up the appointment for?” 

“What appointment?” Tycho’s brow creased.

“I’ve got a holonet address. I send the when and they supply the where.” 

“I’ll get back to you on that. I need to come up with a plan.” 

“I’d let this one slide if I were you, Celchu,” Mara said. “If they’re using Booster and not the Smuggling Alliance as middlemen, something’s wrong.” Her voice contained the same scathing tone Tycho was used to from her, but her face expressed true worry_. I know she’s had some training in the Force. And if she’s worried…Well, hopefully it’s just worry about loosing the deal. If not, we’ll just have to be prepared. _

“Are you saying that I can’t broker a deal?” Booster growled, returning Tycho’s concentration to the present. 

“No, I’m saying you’ve got too many ties to the good guys.” She turned her fiery glare towards where she must be projecting Booster’s image. 

“And you don’t? How’s Skywalker these days?” 

“Shut it Terrik before I decide the Dark Side looks appealing after all, if only to filet your hide. Jade out.” 

“Touchy. Karrade should have never left her in charge. Force users are too temperamental. He needs someone like my daughter. Anyhow, contact me when you’re ready.” Booster’s gaze softened a bit, no longer looking menacing. “And Tycho, it’s nothing personal, just business. I lost two turbolasers to Tavira and the New Republic can foot the bill.” The holo winked out. 

Tycho leaned back and looked at the person sitting against the wall with his feet up, out of the view of the holocam. “You look like you’re thinking too hard,” he told the sandy haired pilot. 

“And you look like you’ve been run over by a Star Destroyer,” Hobbie responded. “I was just thinking that female Devaronian in the background of Booster’s holo will be the second I’ve seen this month. Nice looking species.” 

Shaking his head, Tycho said, “Did you ever consider it might be the same one? We need to find you a girl, Hobbie. You and Wes. No more checking out every female you see, so you could actually keep your mind on task. What about Reme? Wes tells me she’s taken a shine to you.” 

“Wes couldn’t see a good prospect for settling down if she shot him in the face. Anyway, as entertaining as that was, why did you have to call me in?” Hobbie whined, “Wes outranks me, why didn’t you make him do it?” 

“Because I need someone who can actually plan a mission that doesn’t involve Ewoks.” He took a sip of his caff. “I wasn’t actually expecting a contact point with these people. We can’t just show up in a bunch of X-Wings and say we’ve got information about an old Death Star lurking about.” 

Hobbie offered up a rare smile. “How about we just tell them they can have Wes? The collateral damage is about the same.” 

Tycho glared. “Some how we have to convince this ‘Defender’ that we have something that he wants. To make matters worse, we have to do it in a way that will convince him to reveal himself.” Once again, he found himself tugging at a patch of his hair. Forcing his hands flat on the desk, he looked to Hobbie. “To start, who should we use for our contact group?” 

“I’d put Horn on it. Remember watching Luke in a light fight?” Hobbie mimed a lightsaber duel, his caff surging precariously in its cup. “If the deal goes sour and he can manage half of that, the bad guys won’t have a chance.” 

“Corran is in, but I don’t want to put a lot of trust in his Jedi abilities. He might even choose not to use them. I was thinking Wes and Nrin.” Wes was an expert shot as well as a capable hand-to-hand duelist and would make an excellent bodyguard. Nrin, other hand, had no particular skills on the ground but was vicious in any fight. 

“Wes will work. Nrin might be out depending on the cover and rather or not we’re thinking these are Imps.” 

Tycho puzzled over the challenges that remained. “We still have legitimacy issues. We need someone we can trust that doesn’t have strong ties to the New Republic. Someone who actually would have access to the kind of weaponry these people want.” 

“What if we say that one of our team is the monarch of a small, wealthy planet who just happens to have a really big, power ship hiding in the middle of nowhere?” Hobbie suggested in an almost hopeful voice. 

“A little suspicious don’t you think?”

“Okay, what if someone on our contact team is a monarch of a minor, wealthy system known for its militancy?” This time, Hobbie’s voice was sincere. 

“You’re not thinking of who I think you are, are you?” Tycho said worriedly. 

Hobbie nodded and shifted his feet back to the floor, his look of mournful terror changing to outright shock and pain as his steaming cup of caff slipped out of his hand and plummeted onto his lap. “Kriff,” he swore, patting at the hot liquid with a spare bit of flimsy. “Sith that hurts. I bet that’s at least a second degree burn. Do you think it’ll need bacta?” He looked worriedly down at his now stained uniform, gingerly rising from the chair. 

“Hobbie, if we bring her in on this you had better start hording bacta, because we’re going to need a lot of it.” 

“I’m doomed,” Hobbie groaned. “My only comfort is that you’re going to right there suffering with me.” 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 13

“Whistler, are you sure those coordinates are right? I’ve got a funny feeling about this,” Corran said as he double-checked the nav calculations. “Yes, I’m sure you entered them right, I just want to make sure.” 

A rubbery raspberry issued from the green and white astromech seated behind him. Bright streaks of hyperspace glow surrounded the ship like white lasers beams shooting by. Never comfortable in hyperspace, Corran forced himself stop fidgeting with his helmet. It had been over a year since his last flight in his X-Wing, though only several weeks since flying combat as a pirate, and his mind was full of worries that he might be rusty. _Just like Tycho was that first time I flew against him. One of the few times I’ve vaped him. How does Hobbie say it? I’m doomed_. 

Taking slow, cleansing breaths as Luke had taught him, he purged his fears and nervousness. Logically, he knew that the mission was a short jaunt to a small rim world for the sole purpose of enlisting help. What worried him is that upon returning from his little getaway with Mirax he found two of the squadron’s most senior pilots, Tycho and Hobbie, as nervous as long-tailed gurrcats in a room full of rocking chairs. Had Wes been nervous, Corran had known that the end of the galaxy was upon them. However, the playful pilot was as cheerful as unusual, so he wanted to assume there was nothing major wrong. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get rid of that tingle in his gut. 

“Okay ready for reversion. Set sensors to quick scan, I want to know immediately if there’s something wrong.” Closing his eyes, he immerged himself in the Force just as he pulled the lever on the hyperdrive. Although he couldn’t see the elongated stars screech to a halt, he could feel the frenzied energy of hyper space flex and snap into three dimensional real space. Eleven humanoid presences glowed in the Force in his immediate vicinity. Below him, a world teamed with life. 

Satisfied that there was no immediate danger, Corran opened his eyes and keyed his comm. “Lead, this is Nine. Any idea where we’re parking these things?” 

“Sending out the vectors now, Nine. Control says the conditions over Eiattuanne are clear, so expect a smooth ride down. Since this is technically a diplomatic trip, try to look sharp.” 

“Aww, but I left my best flight suit at home,” Janson’s voice came over the comm. 

Corran laughed and returned his attention to his own flight. “Okay guys, sending out landing coordinates now. The Boss wants a show, so bring out the polish and use some elbow grease.” 

“The equations of state for landing do not include the coefficients ‘polish’ and ‘elbow grease’,” Eleven’s emotionless voice clicked over the channel. 

Corran frowned. Octaten Binin was new to the squadron, a Givin from Yag’Dhul. Corran had never before heard of a Givin pilot and was beginning to wonder if he was coming across the reason why. “I mean put some flare into it, make a show out of it.” 

“Ten believes Nine is saying that you should increase the number significant figures in your calculations,” Ooryl added. 

“This equates.” Eleven’s X-Wing edged closer to Ghufran’s, placing his nose exactly perpendicular to the leading edge of her S-Foil. 

“Thanks, Ten,” he said over his private channel with Ooryl. 

“Ooryl did not wish to supplant your authority, but I wished to help.” 

“You did fine. And you did a great job with the Flight while I was gone.” 

“I am pleased I could help,” Ooryl clicked happily back. 

Smiling slightly at the odd conglomeration of humanoids that formed his Flight, Corran concentrated on bringing his own X-Wing in. He ignored his steadily growing sense of unease. 

|o| >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< |o|

The palace on Eiattu IV was a glowing white spire amidst a dense green jungle. Inside, a vaulting ceiling soared over banners in red and black depicting twelve noble family crests. A grand curving staircase lead from the upper quarters of the palace to the main ballroom where the Rogues now stood. 

Corran nudged Janson, who stood on his left. “Aren’t we a little under dressed?” he asked, looking down at his green flight suit. 

“You probably should have changed,” Wes whispered back. He gestured to his own orange flight suit, “Everyone knows orange is fashionable in the Eiattuian court.” 

Corran glared at the cheerful pilot. “I just meant that it seems odd the Colonel made a big deal about us looking good as we came in for a landing, and now we stand here in sweaty flight suits. Shouldn’t we have brought our dress uniforms?” 

“You see, there is a very good reason for that. Number one: Nobody likes those dress uniforms, except maybe you. Number two: This is a planet of warriors, so we want to blend in. Number three: We’re trying to make the Queen very jealous.” He kept his voice low as if imparting an important secrete. 

“What queen would be jealous of stinky flight suits?” Corran threw up his hands and said, “No, wait, the Queen of Ewoks right?” 

Wes rubbed his chin, considering. “Nope, good guess though. Kettch always did like his flight suit. He would have come along, but he was too scared.” 

The hairs rose on the back of Corran’s neck. “Wes, just what’s going on here? Tycho and Hobbie are acting nervous and now you tell me your stuffed Ewok is afraid of this place. Something is going on that you three aren’t telling the rest of us.” 

“Well, that is a privilege of rank,” Wes said airily, “but seeing as you’re a fellow Flight Leader, I’ll let you in just this once.” 

“I’m honored,” Corran responded dryly. 

“Now, you remember back when we met, I introduced you to that charming redhead and you asked be if there were any more like her back home?” 

Corran frowned, tracing back the years. He and Wes had met while Corran was still with Corsec, shortly after Endor. Some how Wes and Hobbie had become entangled in a kidnapping case he had been working on. Although the memories were a bit dim, he could clearly remember the redheaded woman that had accompanied them. “Yeah, you told me there was a whole planet full.” His green eyes narrowed as he recalled the havoc that one woman had wreaked. “And I believe I instructed you to keep them there.” 

Wes face broadened in a merry grin. “Welcome to Eiattu IV.” 

Corran’s gut dropped at Wes’s words. The twinge he had assumed was a prodding in the Force became a roiling sea of dread. He looked around, studying the toned musculature on the guards standing at the base of the stairs, and the bulging arms on the well-dressed man shaking hands with Tycho. “Droyk. But that means…” 

“Well look at what the thuvasaur dragged in.” The woman that glided down the stairs looked very different from the one in Corran’s memories. Her hair had grown out and now was draped down her back in a long braid. She also looked much more feminine, dressed in a flowing purple gown with a gold circlet on her head. She certainly didn’t look like someone that would get into a light fight, let alone use a blaster as a cudgel during that light fight. _Looks like we’ve all undergone some changes_. 

Following Tycho’s example, the Rogues bowed briefly to her as she stopped to stand before them. “Queen Estillo.”

“Celchu, you keep calling me that and I’ll vape your six,” the venom in her voice was belayed by the rib cracking hug she gave him. _Or not._

“I’d like to see you try,” he responded, rubbing his sides. 

Queen Estillo looked down the line of orange clad Rogues. “Hobbie. Still alive I see. Figured you’d died back during the bacta shortage.” 

To Corran’s surprise, it was Tycho that responded. “Why do you think we liberated Thyferra? Hobbie was missing his bath.” 

“Hello, Plourr,” Hobbie said grumpily. “Nice to see you too.” 

“And I see Nrin’s back with the squad. How’s the Imp hunting?” 

“Better then bagging thuvasaurs,” Nrin replied, tentacles rolling back to reveal pointed teeth. Corran realized that somewhere along the way to the palace, Nrin picked up a feathered cap that now graced is head. The feather danced as he kept swatting it out of his field of view. “I wish to thank you for once again allowing us room in your humble abode.” He removed his hat with a flourish. 

“If you like it here so much, I’m sure we could arrange something more permanent. Especially if you bring Koyi along. How is she anyway?” They exchanged pleasantries for a bit, causing several of the other Rogues to start shifting in impatience. Corran was happy to find he had automatically reverted to a stance that would relieve tension to his knees and lower back, allowing him to stand still for hours. _Some of that Jedi training got through after all._

Smiling to her old friend, Plourr shifted her attention to Wes Janson. “Janson, how’s that aim of yours? I’ve got a couple of Priamsta that could use a few lessons. As targets,” she growled. 

The large man standing near Tycho admonished her. “Dear, we’ve discussed this; you can’t just shoot everyone, especially before you leave.” 

“Rial, I can do whatever the kriff I please. I’m Queen, remember? Why don’t you go make yourself useful and have my X-Wing prepped?” He kissed her on the cheek as he exited the room. “Husbands, who needs them?” she muttered under her breath. She looked up and down the line of Rogues again. “Hey, Celchu. Where’s Wedge? I wanted to thank him for including me on this scheme of his. I needed a vacation from this madhouse.” 

Corran could make out Tycho’s slight wince. “Actually, he’s off playing with the big ships. The squadron’s mine now, but the plan is actually Hobbie’s.” 

Placing her head in her hands, she groaned. “Tycho commanding, Hobbie planning, what is this squadron coming to?” 

Wes grinned widely. “You should see who we’re accepting these days.” He pointed his thumb towards Corran. “Corsec.” 

Raising her head, she studied Corran in surprise. Quickly, her expression melted to outrage. “Son of a Sith.” As her hand went to her belt, Corran’s hand shot to his own, instinctively going for his lightsaber, only to remember it was currently with Whistler. Fortunately, instead of a blaster she removed a small pouch and furiously chucked it at Hobbie’s head. He fielded it neatly and shoved it in his pocket, a satisfied smirk on his face. _What was all of that about?_

“Nice catch,” Reme said softly to Hobbie. “You should try out for the SC zoneball team. I like watching a good zoneball match; it’s almost as fun as scoring yourself.” Corran lips twitched with a grin as he watched Hobbie’s cheeks tinge pink. 

“You weren’t kidding Wes.” Plourr turned to the brunette, studying her as one would study a newly discovered mynock subspecies. “Celchu, you have a lot of explaining to do.” 


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 14

Fortunately for the Rogues, Plourr offered the services of one of Eiattu’s Corellian Cruisers for the ride to Kuat, where the meeting was to take place. Sighting a previously arranged diplomatic voyage by one of the Priamsta, the innocuous Cruiser would provide cover for the Rogues return trip and its shuttle would provide an ideal vehicle for the use in the meeting with the Defender. It also meant that instead of spending the time in hyperspace locked in a small snubfighter cockpit, the Rogues could relax in a large, luxurious lounge suited for even the most uppity diplomat. 

Around a small white alba table, Nrin, Plourr, Corran, and Gavin were engaged in a particularly savage game of sabacc. Judging by the crude stream of Rodian curses issuing from the table, Plourr wasn’t having much luck. A little ways a way, others lounged on white, soft couches arranged around a state of the art holoset entertainment system, which was currently offline. 

Alinn sat beside an open panel along the holoset’s side, revealing an array of electronic leads and crystals. Batting blonde hair back from her eyes, she showed Reme a small chip cupped in her hands. “See, this is the coding chip. By bending this little leg here just a bit,” her tongue protruded from between her teeth as she used a small squeezetorquer. “There, that should widen the receiver band just enough to pick of the signal.” She snapped the little chip into place and then moved away to allow Reme to look. 

“Where did you learn that little trick? I don’t remember an electronics course at the Academy.” Reme studied the repaired circuitry and then turned the holoset on. A grateful smile crossed her face as it flickered to life. 

“I grew up of on Generis,” Alinn shrugged as she snapped the cover back on the panel. “With a transmitter that powerful nearby, a standard holoset needs a few special modifications before it’ll work.” 

“But we’re no where near a transmitter,” Inyri pointed out. “A standard ‘set should work just fine, especially a high-end model like this.” 

“I don’t know Sharps, I just know that the frequency is a little off for whatever the reason,” Alinn plopped down next to Ghufran on one of the couches. 

“Quit calling me that,” Inyri scowled, crossing her arms. 

“Inyri dear, we each have our own faults and our own way of dealing with them. By accepting your callsign, you accept Alinn’s faults and encourage her to improve,” Ghufran said gently, batting aside a fold of cloth away to pat Alinn on the knee. Gul wore a loose flowing robe belted at her waist. Due the physiology of Askajians, Gul’s girth could fluctuate greatly depending on how much water she wished to store, making loose garments a must. Her flight suit had to be similarly belted. 

“Easy for you to say,” Inyri muttered. “Yours is Rose.” 

Wes abruptly threw himself off his couch, landing on one knee before Inyri. “But what is a rose when compared to you? Its beauty shall wilt, its thorns shall prick, where you shall bloom eternal.” He grabbed her hand from her lap, pulling it towards him to kiss. Inyri yanked it out of his grasp and used it to slap his face, sending him reeling back. Then she stood and stormed out of the room. 

“Six,” Hobbie intoned, his attention not departing from his datapad. 

Wes glared up at him. “I thought that was one hundred twenty-two.” 

“It is,” said Hobbie, bored. “But I’ve started a new list for Inyri Slaps.” 

“Wes, quit bothering Inyri,” Tycho said from the couch where he had been presumably sleeping, his eyes still closed. “And if you keep up the bad holodrama quotes, I’m sending you back to the Wraiths.” 

Wes stuck out his tongue at his superior as he resumed his seat.

“I saw that,” Tycho muttered, eyes still closed as he drifted off to sleep. 

|o| >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< |o|

When Tycho awoke a few hours later, the holoset was off, and the lounge was empty, save for himself and Hobbie, who was still working on his datapad. 

“Where did they go?” Tycho asked, groaning slightly as he sat up. 

“To get some rack time,” Hobbie said, still focusing on the datapad. “Except for Ooryl and Octaten, they’re wandering around the ship somewhere.” 

“Why aren’t you getting some sleep? Nothing on that datapad could possibly be that important.” 

Hobbie looked up and shot him a dour look. “Actually, it is. I received the coordinates for the rendezvous from Booster. Outer Kuat system, way beyond the yards. I’ve also arranged to have this Cruiser dock with Senator Beryon’s private station pod to lend a bit more legitimacy. Our contact team can prep there while we wait in the outer system in the X-Wings. Judging by the timing, it would be best if the Cruiser drops us off before we make the micro jump into the system. We can wait there until it is show time. Nrin will complain about drying out, but with his suit he should be alright for the few hours it will take.” 

Tycho was impressed, as well as surprised. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to do all of that. I could have handled it after my nap.” 

“What about the requisition forms and this month’s performance evaluations?”

Laying his head on the backrest of the couch, Tycho winced. “I planned on doing those after.” 

“And the report to Admiral Ackbar and General Cracken?” 

Tycho’s eyes flashed at Hobbie. “I am perfectly capable of running this squadron, Klivian. Don’t tell me how to do my job.” 

“Good to hear you say that, sometimes I wonder if _you_ think you’re capable.” Hobbie set down the datapad and looked at Tycho. “You’re wearing yourself out trying to do everything at once and somehow prove to everyone you’re Rogue Leader.” 

Sighing, Tycho studied his hands. “I know I can do this, I’ve been doing it. I just feel that Wedge would be doing better if he were here.” 

“He’s not here,” Hobbie stated bluntly. “You are.” 

“Okay, I get the point, I’m doing fine and you want me to start delegating more.” He studied Hobbie. “Why are you taking all this work upon yourself?” 

“Because I’m your second, even if you haven’t stated so. Everyone knows it. I’m the one you call for help, the one that babysits while you’re away, and the one that does your paperwork.” He snorted. “Besides, Janson is too busy flirting with Inyri to do the job properly.” 

Tycho cocked his brow at Hobbie. “Wes and Inyri? I think all that bacta must have finally pickled your brain. She hates him.” 

“But how many pranks has Wes played in the past few months?” Hobbie asked sagely, reclining back on his couch. 

“I thought he was just placating me.” 

“If that were the case, he’d just find a new target. Instead, he’s been expelling all of his effort into bothering Inyri.” 

“Has he said anything?” Tycho wondered aloud. 

“Denies everything,” Hobbie responded with a wry smile. 

“Anyone else notice?” Tycho climbed to his feet, stretching out his back and neck, which had locked during his brief nap. 

“I don’t think so,” Hobbie said, considering. 

“Good, that means I can start the pool for a change.” 


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 15

_Most people think of space as empty, a vacuum, but any pilot that has been out of atmosphere could tell you differently. When plotting hyperspace routes, there is always the danger of running into a star or a black hole or any other massive object. When flying in real space, it isn’t the massive objects are that are deadly. Any pilot can see a star and fly around it. No, in real space it is the small stuff that will kill you. And no where is this more apparent than around Kuat. _

Tycho sighed as his shields flickered green again. A chunk of plastasteel once part of a traffic satellite caromed of his shield then drifted back into the darkness. All around the ten X-Wings, myriad pieces of scrap and junk floated in a deadly artificial ring system that stretched all the way back to Kuat’s second shield. Over thousands of years, spacefares traveling to and from Kuat had dropped garbage, lost parts, crashed, or been attacked just outside of the system. Every one of them had left scraps that floated at phenomenal speeds as they encircled Kuat and its star. Scraps and pieces from the yards as well as from the myriads of battles that had been fought in system floated in large clusters of scrap. Now the Rogues joined the scrap pile, floating serenely as they waited to provide support for their contact team. 

Feeling impatient, Tycho flipped on his comm. “Rogue Four, this is Lead. Any word form Kuat?” 

“Eye One reports that the Away Team is departing now.” To help coordinate the mission, Iella was standing by at one of Kuat’s Traffic Stations. She was broadcasting frequent reports on the Away Team’s status to the special receiver now hooked up in Gavin’s X-Wing. 

“Great, let me know when they make their micro jump.” Tycho settled back in his ejection seat, continuing to watch the scrap light up his shields. The Rogues were arrayed to cover the small clearing where the meeting was suppose to occur while not being visible themselves. 

The Away Team would be pretending to be a greedy aristocrat and her party wanting to trade information for some quick cash. Plourr, playing the part of the greedy aristocrat, was in her element. She had already confessed loudly that she hoped that the ‘Defender’ would try something and so she could pound him. Tycho prayed that Corran, acting as her bodyguard, would be able to keep her from doing anything stupid. Tycho knew better than to hope Wes would be able to control her. 

“Lead, they’ve made their jump. ETA five minutes,” Gavin’s voice broke Tycho out of his reverie. 

“Rogue Squadron, listen up. Keep your eyes open and your sensors on. Away Team is inbound. Watch for the contact.” He flicked his comlink to standby and addressed his astromech. “Summer, I need you to keep an eye on the rest of the Rogues. Let me know the moment someone begins to move out of position. We can’t have anyone give away the game too soon.” While he trusted the Rogues, he was worried that rookies like Binin and Varth would be too quick on the draw. 

The orange glowing chrono on the cockpit dash clicked down the seconds. Tycho forced himself to breath slowly, divorcing himself from his worries to assume the guise he wore as a pilot. _It no longer matters what might happen, it now matters what is happening_. 

“They should be reverting…..Now!” cried Gavin over the comm. Colonel Celchu watched the small patch of agreed upon space, waiting for the familiar wing pattern of a Lambda shuttle. 

The chrono ticked on, the numbers quickly climbing into the positives. There were still no signs of the shuttle. 

“Four, verify with Eye One that Away Team made the jump,” he told Gavin tightly. 

“Eye One confirms,” Gavin said, confusion evident in his voice. “Their last know exit vector matches perfectly. They should be here by now.” 

“Count on Janson to get lost in less then a solar system.” 

“Seven, can it. Rogues we are now Omega. Open up your comms and punch sensors from passive to active.” Tycho frowned. “And set course back to Kuat.” He followed his own orders, working in conjunction with Summer to plot a direct course back to their temporary base. 

Pair by pair, the ten X-Wings broke from their positions, engines glowing red before disappearing into hyperspace. Lead and Two were the last to make the jump, doing one final scan of the area. 

“Lead, we’re not going to find them are we?” Hobbie asked quietly over the channel he shared with Tycho. 

“As Inyri said, Wes probably just held the course too long. Plourr’s probably giving him a black eye for it as we speak,” Tycho replied, his heart not truly in his words. 

“They’re gone, just like Red Skies.” 

“No,” Tycho declared adamantly. “We’ll find them.” He studied the vast, dark expanse before him. Suddenly, space seemed a lot emptier than it had moments ago. “We’ll find them.”


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 16

“Tell me again why you’re flying this hunk of junk,” Plourr asked Janson irritably. They had just taken off from Senator Beryon’s private launching platform and already she exuded impatience and annoyance. Corran did his best to remain patient, hoping to set an example, but after several minutes of unsuccessful meditation, he had resorted to the un-Jedi like behavior of dreaming up possible visions he could send Plourr that would keep her still and silent. 

Ignoring Plourr’s cracking knuckles, Wes focused on guiding the shuttle smoothly between the giant space docks of the infamous Kuat Drive Yards. “Because I’m the one with experience flying lumbering hunks of junk and you’re the one in the fancy robe.” The Lambda shuttle banked, its extended wing avoiding a near brush with an extended crane. 

Plourr looked down at the embroidered purple robe she wore, dripping with filigree and precious stones. “I say we let Corsec wear the dress and I’ll play bodyguard.” 

“Listen here,” Corran snapped. “For better or worse, Major Janson is in charge of this mission. You have your orders to act as the buyer, not to go bashing skulls. You do your part and we’ll do ours.” 

“Corsec, I don’t know who died and let you into the squad, but while I’m here, we’re doing things my way. I’m not going to sit idly by and let the bad guys get away.” She jerked her thumb at her chest. “There will be skull bashing if I say there will be skull bashing.” 

“Quiet down children,” Wes said, irked. “I can’t hear Kuat Traffic Control through both you two and the static. Strap in for the micro jump.” 

Plourr turned in her seat to strap in, leaving Corran to glare at the back of her head. Deciding that it was impossible to bore a hole in the back of her head with the Force, he settled for watching out the window as the stars lurched into pseudomotion. 

Although able to feel the slight acceleration forces not dampened by the cranked down inertial compensator, his gut lurch in a manner that had nothing to do with the motion. Closing his eyes and calming his mind, he sought out the feeling, focusing it. 

This time the feeling was not a knot of his own nagging bad memories. This time he could feel the tendrils snaking outward. The cold inky darkness before them and the thrumming life behind them. The ten familiar flares fading in the distance. _Fading in the distance. _

Corran’s eyes snapped open. “Janson, drop us out of hyperspace now! We’ve over shot the target zone.” 

“I can see that,” Wes remarked dryly, tapping a finger on the chrono built into the console. The glowing orange numerals had ticked by their zero mark. 

“So drop us out,” Corran demanded. “We’re headed for a trap.” 

Wes turned in his chair to face Corran. An unusually hard expression had taken hold of his face, and for once Corran could detect no amusement. “Do you know that for sure, Commander?” 

Corran responded to the sudden gravity in Janson’s voice. “No sir, I can’t be sure. I know we missed the rendezvous and that we’re headed to something dark, not so much evil, something,” he groped for the right word, “something cold. Frigid, uncaring. I don’t know if it means us harm, I just know that it’s there.” 

Wes’s brown-eyed gaze studied him a bit longer before returning to the instrument panel. “Given our mission parameters, I think it’s best if we stick to our course and see where we end up. In all likelihood, this is part of a security system to insure that our contact doesn’t get ambushed. If that is the case, we go through with the bluff and try to arrange another point of contact.” His merry grin found its way back to his face. “If not, hopefully this ‘coldness’ of Corran’s is a nice little skiing resort. I’m sure Tycho wouldn’t mind if we took the time to question those nice women on the slopes about any suspicious activity.” 

“I was wondering where that Janson charm went,” Plourr groaned. “Listen, I don’t care if Corsec here is getting nervous. When our contacts show up, they’re going to wish they never sent us on this wild gundark chase.” 

Corran glared at Plourr, mouth opening and closing, trying to form the words that would explain to her the importance of this portent of the Force without revealing his hidden talents. He settled for, “My gut’s never wrong. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” 

“And I’ve got a bad feeling my fist is going to find its way to your head if you don’t quit your whining,” Plourr growled. “We’ve got a job to do, so let’s do it. Or did you leave your courage back on Corellia?” 

“I…” Corran began to respond heatedly, but he cut himself off. The tingling in the Force had disappeared momentarily, then had returned amplified, exuding dark, beckoning tendrils. _Kriff. I need to calm down. _He closed his connection to the Force, walling it away from his current angered state. 

“To keep you children occupied,” Wes commented as he opened his datapad, “I’ve got a couple of things that need to be done. First, Corran, I need you to help me run a diagnostic on the shuttle and figure out how they changed our nav coordinates without our knowledge. Plourr, pull up our current vector and plot out any likely destinations. Then compile fuel and consumable reports. I’d rather not get stuck out in the middle of nowhere with you two children.” 

“Fine, I’ll get on it,” groused Plourr. She snatched up a near by datapad and grabbed a datacard from the nav computer before withdrawing to the aft compartment. 

“And Horn,” Wes said, looking up from his own datapad, “let me know if you get any other ‘funny feelings’. Unlike Plourr, I once fly with a guy whose gut used to get us in and out of trouble from time to time.” 

Corran smiled slightly. “I’ll try, sir.” 

“Funny, that guy I mentioned had a saying, ‘Do or do not, there is no try’. And quit siring me. I finally broke Varth of the habit and I don’t need you starting.” His glare didn’t quite match the wide grin on his face. 

“No showing respect for superior officers, check,” Corran joked, sliding into the copilot’s seat to better access the navigation computer. 

“Six years in the squadron and you’re just now figuring that out? Clearly Hobbie and I have been neglecting your training,” Wes scolded him while bringing up the navigation logs. 

|o| >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< |o|

They spent the next few hours poring over endless files of navigational data and performance logs. Two hours into their search, Plourr returned to the cockpit, bringing a peace offering of MREs. Corran nibbled at his, but Wes happily ate both his own and Plourr’s after making several stomach twisting comment about the content and lifespan of a typical MRE. 

As they approached their third hour, Corran finally noticed a discrepancy in the maintenance log. “Look here, just as we were clearing the KDY dry docks, the navicomp accepted a batch update from a holonet relay. The computer accepted the transmission and adjusted the coordinates accordingly.” 

“So someone would have had to hack the holonet relay satellite to make the transmission in addition to hacking our navicomp, all in the few moments leading up to our jump?” Plourr questioned. 

“Not necessarily,” Wes mused. “Most craft this size and smaller use a standard VTL-6 Navicomp. If they found a way to hack one, they could use the same entrance on any small ship.” 

Corran snapped his fingers another piece fell into place. “Remember how Red Skies left on the same vector as a couple of freighters? Both classes use the same navigation computer. Red Skies probably received the same coordinates as the freighters on accident.” 

Leaning over the navicomp, Plourr studied their evidence. “Even if what you say is true, they’d have to have a way to control both the holonet relay and the holonet itself. Given the security procedures both the Imps and the New Republic use on those things, we’re up against one Sith of a hacker.” 

“Karrde probably has one or two lying around that could do the job,” Corran said, eyes narrowing at the thought of the smuggler’s resources. 

Shaking his head, Wes disagreed. “According to Tycho, Ghent is working for the New Republic now. I wouldn’t think there are many hackers in the galaxy better than him, but if he’s making the encrypts, I’d hate to meet the guy hacking them.” 

Plourr stood and stretched her long body. “Well, with that mystery solved, I think I’m going to go get some sleep. We’ve got another four hours to the next major system on our current trajectory.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Corran said suddenly. The others turned to him in time to see the starfield behind him cease its pseudomotion. 

Before them, against the dark backdrop of space, a dim, giant star glowed red. 

Wes was the first to speak. “So where the kriff are we?” 


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 17

After an hour of waiting with no results, Away Team agreed to set down on the sole planet encircling the dying star. Wes landed the tri-winged shuttle at the local spaceport, if a strip of ferrocrete could be considered a spaceport. There, they debarked and paid a hefty ‘security fee’ before roaming the town. 

_Dirty and dingy. That’s how I’d describe this world. _All around Corran could see sloped-roofed building covered in lichen and moss as teams of nerfs dragged loads of strange looking greenery down the dusty streets. Due to the dim light of this world’s sun, the sky remained a dusky red and most of the streets were enveloped in shadow even at high noon. The coldness was here, and it seemed to lurk in every shadow. Out of the corner of his eye, Corran thought he saw something move swiftly in the darkness of an alley. He turned swiftly; hand on the butt of his blaster.

Gazing through the impenetrable darkness, he reached out with a tendril the Force. And stepped back as he was bombarded with the hungry, feral thoughts of a vicious gurrcat making a kill. Shaking his head at his own foolish nerves, he turned to follow Wes and Plourr, and ran straight into a large man wearing a homespun tunic. 

“Fresh ferkya, Sperin’s best, only 2 credits a bunch.” A large, blue leafy mass was thrust under Corran’s nose, exuding a choking cloud of dirt. 

“No thank you, sir,” Corran replied, coughing slightly. He dodged the man’s outstretched arms, hurrying after his companions. As he came abreast Plourr, he noticed that Wes was happily munching on one of the vivid blue stalks, devouring leaf and stem. “Wes, are you sure you should be eating that?” 

“One thing I learned growing up on Taanab,” Wes said between bites. “Never reject locally grown fresh produce. No matter what it is, it’ll always taste better than it does anywhere else in the galaxy.” 

“Even if it doesn’t taste good to begin with?” Corran eyed the oozing stalk. 

“Men. All you think of is your stomachs. Me, I’m thinking of how I owe someone a good thrashing for bringing us out to this dump of a world. At least I don’t have to wear that blasted robe,” she gestured to the formfitting blue spacer’s jumpsuit she now wore, sans its decorative over robe. 

“The world is Sperin, and that kid manning the booth seemed pretty happy about your change in clothes, too,” Wes shot back, brushing some of the sticky ooze on his dark pants. 

“Shut Janson, before I decide to pound you instead,” she growled, punching her left palm. 

“After all, pounding someone is such a royal behavior,” a hard female voice issued from the darkness of the alley they had just passed. 

The three Rogues, spun, Plourr stepping forward to face the woman and Wes dropped into a low crouch, his blaster pointing at a target further down the street. Corran opened himself to the Force, noting the locations of both the woman before them, and her associates four surrounding them. He rested his hand on his blaster, ready to draw the moment he felt any concentrated hostility. 

“I take it you’re the one that fouled our nav computer to haul our sixes out here,” Plourr said, her eyes narrowing as her hands balled into fists. 

“You wished to speak to the Defender,” the woman said, stepping in to a patch of dull red light. “So speak.” Her midnight black hair was pulled tightly back in a swinging tail, the color matching the tattooed vine snaking around her eye. At her appearance, Corran caught a brief jolt of surprise from Janson before he resumed his deadly calm. 

“You speak Basic?” Plourr said with disgust. “I said I wanted to meet with the Defender, not the Defender’s little lackey.” 

“You may call me Bishi. I’m here to verify a little information, your _Highness_,” the woman spat. Her hand rested on the large blaster at her side. She studied Plourr before turning her attention on Corran. He met her gaze unflinchingly, trying to project an air of nonchalance. Eyes narrowing, her stare swept over to Janson, who had already slid slightly into the shadows. “While you maybe royalty, I highly doubt you have anything that would interest the Defender.” 

“I see that ink must have affected your brain,” Plourr said imperiously. “Else you would remember a little incident off Mrlsst eight years ago. Of course if you’re not interested, we can take are business elsewhere. Come on.” She turned, walking away from the dark haired woman at angle that would allow Plourr to keep her in view. Waving her hand, she gestured for Wes and Corran to follow. 

“Wait,” the woman said softly. Plourr turned back to face her, stopping mid-pace. “You know what happened to the _Conflagration_?” 

“That was its name?” Plourr remarked causally. “My little toy made hash out of it so fast I didn’t have time to read the name on the Dreadnaught’s hull.” 

_At least Plourr is good at bluffing. I’ve never even heard of the_ Conflagration. 

“Is that so? Then you’ll just have join us and the Defender for a little chat. It’s funny though, I always considered it Rogue Squadron’s toy. But I guess that fits with your company here.” Alarm shot through Corran as she indicated himself and Wes. Pulling his blaster, he leveled it at the nearest thug. “I’m afraid they won’t be able to join us,” the woman continued, drawing her own blaster on Plourr. 

“Then I’m afraid we have a problem. You see, I don’t like it when people aim blasters at me. It tends to make me violent.” As Plourr finished, she lunged towards the woman, knocking her blaster out of alignment. A shot detonated shards of mud brick, slicing across the pair. 

With a sharp warning through the Force, Corran threw himself to the ground, narrowly avoiding a sizzling red blaster round. Rolling to come up on one knee, he snapped of a shot that pierced the arm of the blurry Twi’lek. The blaster in the Twi’lek’s hand tumbled to the ground as he roared in fury, charging his attacker. As the enraged Twi’lek quickly approached, Corran took a small step to the side and holstered his own blaster. Reaching out, he caught the goon by a lekku and right arm, thrusting him bodily over his own hip. 

The Twi’lek soared, tumbling and cutting the legs from beneath Wes Janson who was currently locking vibroblades with a hulking Gran. Tumbling to the ground, Wes narrowly dodged a sharp thrust to the face, the humming blade lodging deep into the hard dirt street. Now faced with both the Twi’lek and the Gran, Wes slid a second vibroblade from his boot as he regained his feet, carefully positioning himself between his opponents. 

_Kriff. I need to work on expanding my sphere of responsibility in the Force_, Corran thought guilty as he watched the tableau in front of him. His concentration elsewhere, he paused a second two long, and a meaty fist slammed into his lower back. Using the Force, he shunted the waves of pain, twisting to take the next punch firmly in his palm. Kicking out, he bashed his foot into soft tissue behind the man’s knee. The human male crumpled backward, pulling Corran by his tunic after him. Throwing himself hard sidewise, the vibroblade in the man’s other hand missed burrowing itself in his guts, instead slicing a burning line across Corran’s ribs. With a hard punch to the wrist, the man’s nerveless fingers released the vibroblade. An elbow to the temple sent the man deep into unconsciousness. 

Crawling forward to grab an errant blaster, Corran rolled to a crouch. Snapping of two shots, he sent an aged hanging sign advertising fresh ferkya crashing down into the middle eyestalk of the Gran battling Janson. Distracted and howling in pain, the Gran collapsed as Wes slashed his remaining vibroblade across the Gran’s throat. Using the momentum of his swing, Janson allowed the motion to continue, sending a punishing blow to the lekku of the Twi’lek. A quick, hard kick to the other lekku left the Twi’lek on the ground, quivering in pain. 

Rubbing his now sore hand, Wes nodded his thanks to Corran, turning to face the space where Plourr had been battling the woman. Corran turned just in time to see a glimpse of black hair disappearing around the far corner of the alley. “Run! Run, you coward! Come back when you learn how to fight,” Plourr yelled loudly. She stood, shaking her fist, her posture suggesting a holoadventure star. On closer inspection, Corran noticed there was not a single scratch on her. Only her unraveling braid and dirty cheeks showed any sign of the battle she had fought. _At least some things stay the same_. _Despite her years as queen, she can still pound the snot out of anyone. _

Fiery pain from his side brought Corran out of his thoughts. “So what do we do now?” he asked, wincing. 

Wes stepped to the Twi’lek’s side, picking up a stray vibroblade. A nudge to the goon with his boot elicited a soft moan. “I say we leave these guys here for the local authorities, I doubt they know anything. We should concentrate on meeting back up with the Rogues. If I know Tycho, they’ll still be at Kuat searching for us. We need to report in.” 

“And report what? That the Defender needs to hire better quality goons that actually offer a challenge?” Plourr asked, disgust in her voice. 

Remembering, Corran turned to Wes. “You recognized her, didn’t you?” 

He nodded slowly. “I saw her on the _Errant Venture_. She works for the Smuggler’s Alliance.” 

“Great,” Corran groaned. “Mara’s going to love this.” 


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 18

“You left us! How could you,” Wes whined. 

Seated in a conference room back in Silvante Air Base, Tycho and Hobbie were debriefing Wes and Plourr about their meeting with the Defender’s goons. _Well, trying to at any rate, _Tycho thought. 

“We had to fly all the way from Sperin to Kuat and then back to Courscant! We could have bled to death while you lounged in unconcerned luxury!” Wes waved his bruised hand dramatically, a pouting expression on his face. 

“I told you, we searched the Kuat System, but since your disappearance closely resembled that of Red Skies, we knew we wouldn’t find anything. Plus it’s easier to organize a galaxy wide search from the center of the galaxy.” Tycho rubbed the bridge of his nose, fighting the sleep and frustration that wanted to overtake him. He and Hobbie had spent two sleepless nights gathering resources to aide in the search for their friends. “Besides, Corran only has a scratch which is now being treated. I doubt that he would have bled to death. And you and Plourr only have bruises, so no complaining.” 

“But there’s always complaining, especially with Hobbie in the room,” Wes said, his expression suddenly brightening with a grin. 

“You know, this is the absolute last time I worry about you.” Hobbie sat hunched in his chair, glaring at Wes. “You wait, one of these days I’ll disappear without a word, and then _you_ can worry about _me_. I can sit on a beach somewhere with a pretty girl and laugh at your desperate attempts to find me. We’ll see how you like it!” 

“Hobbie, you couldn’t disappear if you tried! You’re like a Wookie at an Ewok picnic, that mournful face of yours will always stick out,” Plourr shot. 

“Besides,” Wes grinned, “we can always follow the bacta trail.” 

“Okay, enough everyone,” Tycho cried, trying to regain control of the conversation. “Wes, you contacted Iella with your information on this Bishi?” 

Janson nodded. “She says she’ll talk to Booster and Mara before getting back to us.” 

“Great.” Tycho picked up his datapad, scrolling through the files. “Okay, other than filing a bunch of reports, it looks like we’re at a stopping point until Intel comes through. Wes, why don’t you…”

“Pick up a nice girl and go out for dinner?” Wes interrupted. 

Shooting Wes his best Angry Officer look, Tycho continued. “Why don’t you write up a report and send if off to Cracken, Madine, and Ackbar. They’ve asked me to keep them apprised of the situation. Plourr, thanks for your help. I’m afraid your Cruiser has already departed, but they left your X-Wing.” 

“Nuh uh,” she shook her head, cracking her knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere. As long as you’re hunting that Defender, I’m still on vacation. Give me Hobbie’s slot if you have to.” 

Before Hobbie could object, Tycho replied, “No, I don’t think so. He’s a more agreeable wingmate than you ever were. If you want to fly with the squadron, I’ll tack you on to Three Flight. You can fly a trio with Binin and Ghufran.” 

“I’ll take it,” Plourr said with triumphant smile. 

“That’s ‘I’ll take it, sir’.” The grin on Tycho’s face was more evil than he usually wore. 

Plourr opened her mouth to fire off a stunning retort when Tycho’s comlink beeped. Frowning, he thumbed it on. “Colonel Celchu here.” 

“Hey, Tycho.” Wedge’s voice crackled through the comm. Tycho smiled at hearing the voice of his old friend, but felt a great deal of surprise. _Shouldn’t he be with his Fleet?_

“Wedge, what’s up?” At the name of their former superior, Wes and Hobbies ceased the hailstorm of flimsy wads they had been throwing at each other. 

“I’m not interrupting anything important, am I?” 

“Just disciplining the children, as usual.” 

“Well, I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wonder if you had a few hours to spare?” While Wedge was often stressed, his voice was more tense than usual. 

“Sure. I take it this isn’t a dinner invitation?” Tycho questioned cautiously. 

“No, I’m afraid not. Although I will buy you dinner after we finish. Wes and Hobbie too, if they’d like to come.” 

“Sure,” Tycho replied. “Wedge, are you okay?” 

“Fine. Meet me at my place when you can. Thanks Tycho.” 

“No problem.” Tycho switched off the comm. “Plourr, why don’t you go find Inyri? She can help you find some quarters. Wes, Hobbie, we’re going to go pay Wedge a visit.” 

|o| >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< |o|

The three Rogues borrowed a speeder from the base and set off to Wedge’s apartment. Arriving at the small, upper level apartment, Tycho was surprised to see a broad man in a grey jumpsuit standing guard at the end of the hall. Walking past him with a nod, Tycho heard Hobbie mutter, “What’s Intel doing here?” 

Shrugging slightly, Tycho cautiously entered the open door to Wedge’s apartment. Clothes and datacards lay strewn across the floor. Wedge’s old orange flightsuit lay ripped to shreds on the couch, which was now overturned and missing its cushions. His green and white helmet sat on a lamppost, the shade squashed flat on the floor. Glancing towards the small kitchen and down the hall, Tycho could see that the other rooms were in a similar state of disarray. 

Hobbie hesitantly entered, plastisteel from datapacks and holoframes crunching under his feet. “I’ve been in crashes cleaner than this,” he commented, running his hand through his sandy hair. 

“Wedge, I like what you did with the place!” Wes announced as he cleared the entrance-way. 

Wedge entered from the bedroom, gently picking a holo out from its shattered frame. “They did quite the number on this place, didn’t they,” he said sadly. As he approached, Tycho could make out one of the few holos Wedge had of his parents and sister. 

“What happened here?” Tycho asked, picking up a battered shelf and snapping it back into its bracket. 

“What does it look like?” Wedge said with a sardonic smile. “Somebody ransacked my apartment.” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll find the perpetrators,” Wes said merrily, rubbing his hands together. “First we need some of that smelly Ewok food. Next, _you_ get naked and rub it all over…”

“Very funny, Janson,” Wedge growled. “Intel went through and can’t find any clues. None of my datacards were touched; they didn’t even try to duplicate them. If they weren’t interested in some of the information I’m privileged to, I have no idea what they might be looking for here.” He picked up a second holo depicting an earlier Rogue Squadron, taken shortly after Plourr had first joined many years ago. “The only other valuables I have are memories.” 

“What about your new girlfriend?” Hobbie asked from where he had stopped to upright an end table. “You were her bodyguard for a reason.” 

The General shook his head. “When Durron erased her memory, he took from her the only thing about her that the Imps would consider of value.” He threw down the broken frame in his hand, keeping the holo. “I suppose that’s one thing I can thank him for.” 

“What about people who want revenge?” Tycho asked quietly. 

“Could be. But she doesn’t always stay here, and her apartment wasn’t touched. I went over there to check on her, but she’s still at a class she’s been taking to improve her memory.” 

“Then there’s always the guys who just want to steal a pretty girl away,” Wes said, waggling his eyebrows. “I mean, not all of us have one of those nice wanted posters to catch the ladies.” 

“Quiet you,” Wedge scowled. 

“Hey Wedge,” Hobbie called out from the small kitchen. “If you and this Dr. Xux are an item, does this mean I can ask Iella out?” 

“What?” Wedge exclaimed, turning to face the kitchen. His face was an interesting combination of anger and confusion. 

“Never mind him,” Tycho said, placing a hand on Wedge’s shoulder. “What can we do for you?” 

“Help me clean this place,” Wedge said, his expression changing to a sad, lopsided grin. “I really don’t want Qwi to see this and there’s no way I can get this done by myself.” 

“What are friends for?” Tycho leaned down and began picking up the scattered datacards, dividing them into piles for personal and work. 

“You asked us here to _clean_?” Janson appeared outraged at the suggestion. “Here we are, ready to snatch you out of the jaws of danger, to do the impossible, and you ask us to clean!” 

“Here,” Wedge tossed him a broom from a nearby closet. “Do the impossible and pilot this around the room without causing a bigger mess. Hobbie, since you’re in there, can you do the kitchen?” 

“That depends; can I try a piece of this desert thing first?” 

Wedge winced, his nose wrinkling. “One of Qwi’s experiments,” he whispered to Tycho. “Sure,” he sad louder, “eat all you want as long as you clean.” 

Together, Tycho and Wedge up righted the couch. Forlornly, Wedge trashed his now ruined flight suit, saving the battle tabs, rank pips, and Rogue Squadron patch. While they worked on picking up Wedge’s belongings, Wes danced around the room, sweeping up the platisteel while doing a complicated Taanabian dance. “Ah, my sweet broom, the way you gather the shards, it’s just irresistible.” He dipped the broom low before pushing the fragments into the awaiting pan. 

“Dancing with Sharps to pick up the sharps?” Tycho teased Wes as he waltzed by. 

Dropping the broom in surprise, he turned to Tycho with laser-strength glare. “Hobbie,” Wes shouted. “Have you been spreading lies about me again?”

“Why would I have to lie when the truth is twice the fun and ten times more incriminating?” was Hobbie’s muffled reply. 

Shaking his head, Wes forcibly grabbed the broom and stormed off to start on the bedroom. 

When sounds came assuring Wes was occupied with cleaning, Wedge turned and looked at Tycho expectantly. “Do I want to know?” Wedge whispered, placing his holoprojector back on the shelf. 

“Wes and Inyri. You can place your bet with me,” Tycho whispered back. 

“You’re kidding,” he said, studying Tycho. “You’re not. Okay, I’ll put eighty credits down for three years from now, going steady with no proposal forthcoming.” He considered a minute longer. “And fifty one slaps later, if Hobbie’s keeping count.” 

“He is,” Tycho said with a grin. He placed a miraculously intact framed holo on the wall. Stepping back, he studied the scene depicting Wedge and Qwi hand-in-hand, with Ithor’s sentient jungle sprawling behind them. “So should I be starting on pool on you as well?” 

Wedge shrugged. “I figured you already had.” 

Shaking his head, Tycho gathered up few more holos, dumping the broken glass but keeping the frames. “You blew that pool out of the air a year ago.” 

Before Wedge could respond, Wes yelled from the bedroom. “Wedge, you’ve been holding out on me!” He entered the room carrying a pair of lightweight short pants that Wedge used as sleep attire. They were made from a shinny, smooth, black material and were decorated with a multitude of fluorescent colored forms. It was only on closer inspection that Tycho realized the source of Janson’s joy. “Ewoks! Wedge, did you know it is a crime on most worlds to wear Ewoks to bed?” Wes teased, waving the pair of shorts in the air. 

“Give me those,” Wedge cried, lunging towards Janson. His grin widening, Wes dodged behind the lamp and ran from Wedge, circling the room. Wedge scrambled after him. Tycho just laughed. Even Hobbie had poked his head out from the kitchen and was smiling at their antics. Finally, after upending the couch that had just been righted, he corned Wes and snatched back his pair of shorts. 

“Grow up, Wes,” Wedge scowled. “They’re just a pair of shorts. _My_ shorts.” 

“Then why are they so important that you’d chase me to get them back?”

“Because the last thing you need is any fuel for your infantile sense of humor.” 

“No, that’s not it.” Wes snapped his fingers, pure joy taking hold of his features. “They’re a gift from a lady friend, aren’t they?” The blush taking to Wedge’s cheeks assured the Rogues that Wes had once again hit his target. “Qwi so taken with your tales of my pranking mastery that she needed to be reminded of it nightly?” 

“Ah hem,” a voice said. The three Rogues spun to see Iella Wessiri standing in the open doorway. Tycho winced. _How long has she been standing there_? Hobbie waved at her from his station near the kitchen. She nodded back, and focused back on Tycho. “I hate to break up the party, but I have information for Colonel Celchu.” 

_That was quick_. “On the super weapon hunt or on Captain Jade?” Tycho queried. 

“Both,” her expression hardened. “It appears Captain Jade is doing a little super weapon hunting of her own.” She entered the room, handing a datacard to Tycho. “These are the coordinates where you can find her and what information I can find on why she’s there.” She turned to Wedge, a closed expression on her face. His face reddened as he opened his mouth, but he failed to speak. “At least I know you liked the lifeday present I gave you,” she said, and then strode from the room. Wes’ and Hobbie’s jaws both hung open slightly while Wedge studied her departure with a confused look. All Tycho could do was shake his head in silence. 


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 19 

Tycho hopped over the small rift that defined the edge of an enormous crater, careful not to catch the restraint straps of his flightsuit on any outcropping rocks. Though the crater’s radius and depth would suggest complete annihilation of its contents, a few scattered scrap piles burned within its bowl. 

The piles had once been primitive homes, located on the small planet of Pzob. Here several tribes of Gamorreans had once flourished after having left their home of Gamorr to avoid the deadly tribal wars that so often plagued the planets inhabitants. Now the homes had been flattened, their occupants mysteriously missing. Few corpses lay among the shattered ruins, though there were no survivors. _So much destruction, and without anyone noticing until it was too late. What are we up against?_

Colonel Celchu picked his way across the flattened plane towards a red headed woman standing next to a particular charred patch of dirt. “Captain Jade.” 

Mara turned toward him. She wore one her usual color shifting sturdy jumpsuit with her blaster prominently displayed on her thigh. Today she wore her hair tied back in a loose tie and a comlink pinned to her collar. Her eyes narrowed. “Colonel Celchu, I didn’t expect to see you here. I doubt the New Republic would care about a settlement of a few Gamorreans who frequently work on the other side of the law.” 

Tycho ignored her rebuke, concentrating on his mission rather than debating the failings of the New Republic. “I’m following a super weapon hunter,” he gestured to the destruction surrounding them, “and this certainly seems to qualify as a trail.” Discreetly glancing at her companions milling around, he lowered his voice. “I also need to talk to you about an associate of yours.” 

Her eyebrow rising, she motioned for him to follow, muttering in a language he was unfamiliar with into her comlink. She walked for a bit and then slowed by a raised patch of soil about two meters in diameter, around which the ground was charred and blackened. “Do you know what’s strange about this patch?” she asked conversationally. 

Kicking at a patch of the untouched soil, Tycho shook his head. To his untrained eye, the soil was simply unscathed soil. 

“In a few spots, where the smell of burnt flesh is most severe, I feel fear, panic, and pain. But I also feel sadness. Here, in this spot, I feel fear, but relief as well,” Mara said. Her brow creased. “And I also feel determination and a joyful sadness.” 

“But what does it mean?” 

“I think it means that whatever did this, it was manned by a sentient gunner. One that felt really bad about tearing this place apart,” she smiled wryly. “Not that intentions count for much.” 

“Who ever it was had to have one massive ship with a with a sithspawn’s nest of turbolasers. A large, single weapon could never have the accuracy to create a patch such as this while a bunch of smaller weapons would need a large reactor to keep them charged constantly,” Tycho remarked, surveying the destruction around him. 

“Of course the million credit question is who would have such a ship,” Mara said wryly. 

He turned to her, studying her in a manner that he knew enhanced the iciness of his aristocratic features. “It would obviously take a person or organization of great wealth and resources. Say, a galaxy wide smuggling group?” 

“Got a death wish Celchu, or do have evidence to back up these accusations,” she said in a cool voice, laying her hand on the butt of her blaster. 

“A woman named Bishi,” he tossed her a datacard containing what information Iella could dig up on Bishi on short notice, including her credentials as a member of the Smuggler’s Alliance. “She’s apparently one of yours. Janson and Klivian ran into her on the _Errant Venture_.” 

“Don’t tell me that’s a crime now days.” She slipped the datacard into her datapad, scanning the contents. 

“That’s not a crime, but assaulting my people and messing with navicomps are.” 

Mara glanced through the information on the datapad before turning it off. “I’m sorry Celchu, but I don’t know anything more about this woman than you do. She’s one of my people, but as I told you before, I have no way to know what everyone of my people is doing at a given time. She’s probably outsourcing her talents.” 

“But you’ll keep you eye on her,” Tycho pressed. 

Spitting him with a steely glare, she responded. “I’m not part of your New Republic, Celchu. But considering she might be connected to this,” she waved her hand at the mess around her, “I’ll keep an eye on her.” 

“Thank you, Captain Jade.” He nodded to her and turned to leave. Walking a few paces, he was surprised when she stayed with him. 

“You realize, Celchu, something this size just isn’t going to go away. I doubt it’ll have an exhaust port you or Antilles can dump a few torpedoes down.” 

“I understand, Captain. Probably better than you realize,” he said, remembering reports on the Sun Crusher and the World Devastators and the myriads of other monstrosities that all been destroyed at great cost. “Perhaps this one will be destroyed through negotiation rather than expenditure of life.” Tycho smiled slightly, “After all, isn’t that what our Jedi are for?” 

Mara snorted, her pace quickening to a brisk walk. “Ah yes, who could forget _Master_ Luke ‘I can save the whole galaxy’ Skywalker. If you see him, tell him he’ll win the pool if he can disable whatever did this at the same time as rescuing a damsel in distress while his students save an orphanage from destruction.” 

“Jedi betting pools are so much more complicated than Rogue pools. We would merely have to destroy the weapon and save the children. Getting the girl would be an added bonus,” his grin widened. “Unless, of course, the damsel was Winter, in which case I would have to apologize profusely for screwing up her scheme to bring galactic peace.” 

This time, Mara actually smiled. “You’re surprisingly cheerful for someone that will probably soon be facing a weapon that may wipe out himself and his squadron.” 

Tycho’s own grin faded slightly. “I think I’m beginning to learn how Wedge stayed Rogue Leader for so long. Either you laugh at Wes’ jokes and tell a few of your own, or you tear your hair out.” 

“A good philosophy, but I prefer relieving my stress in other ways.” Her comlink beeped, switching it on and reattaching it to her collar, she spoke, “Jade here.” 

“Two Star Destroyers just arrived. IFF confirms that the lead Destroyer is the _Chimaera_,” a voice hissed through the comm. 

Mara’s face hardened and the muscles on her bare arms tensed noticeably. “Get everyone out, load up what evidence you can grab. I want to be out of system before they even _think_ about setting up a containment blockade.” She nodded to Celchu. “I suggest your people do the same.” 

“We’ll provide cover on your way out. May the Force be with you,” he called over his shoulder as he broke into a fast trot.

“And with you,” he heard her reply fading in the hum of repuslorlifts as the ships surrounding the crater took to flight. 


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 20

The comm frequencies were surprisingly silent. _Either everyone’s asleep, or someone dismantled Wes’ and Plourr’s comms when they weren’t looking_. 

Stationed shortly beyond Pzob’s atmosphere, Two and Three Flight had a good view of the motley brown world below as well as the primary entrance and exit vectors for the system. In the distance, the Moonflower Nebulae blossomed in brilliant hues of cyan and magenta, long wispy tendrils reaching out to form a shape similar to its namesake. 

Much to Corran’s displeasure, the Rogues were not the only ones taking advantage of the view. Two smuggling ships floated a few klicks to port, maintaining watchful eyes not only on the system and the planet below, but the Rogues themselves. Corran could feel a vague sense of cautious hostility directed towards the snubfighters. 

“Three Flight, comm check,” Corran called out, trying to relieve his boredom. 

“For the love the Force,” Plourr moaned over the radio. “What are you? Someone’s spice dream of the perfect pilot? Nobody does comm checks!” 

Breathing slowly and deeply, Corran replied. “Thirteen, I’ll take that as your affirmative. Everyone else, sound off.” 

“Ten is here,” Ooryl clicked. 

“Eleven’s formulations are optimized and require inputs.” Corran rolled his eyes and made a mental note to have Whistler start running Octaten’s replies through a translation program. _I think Whistler would get along well with Octaten. They both speak droid_. 

“Twelve is doing well, thank you for inquiring.” Even over the static filled com, Ghufran’s voice was soothing. 

“No problem, Twelve. All right people, stay alert and don’t nod off to sleep. If anything happens, I want to make sure we beat those nuts in Two Flight to the punch.” 

As if eavesdropping on Three Flight’s channel, Wes’ voice suddenly came over the comm. “Six is reporting a lot of encrypted chatter on the frequency those smugglers are using. Their scanners are probably better than ours, so heads up.” 

“Major,” Varth called out. “We’ve got something big coming out of hyper. Three o’clock high.” 

Corran felt his gut chill as two dagger shaped Imperial Star Destroyers dropped into realspace. Whistler beeped, bringing his attention to the IFF signal coming from the second Destroyer. _Sith_,_ the_ Chimaera. _Well, at least we don’t have to worry about old Thrawn pulling some fancy traps this time around._ A smile spread steadily across his face. “Okay Three Flight, let’s go finish what we started at Billibringi. Let Whistler sync your torps to mine. We’re going to send the _Chimaera_ a welcome gift.” 

“Negative, Nine,” Colonel Celchu’s flat voice entered the channel. “All Rogues, escort the smugglers to the jump point. Do not engage the Destroyers unless necessary. One Flight is inbound, ETA three minutes.” 

Out of his port window, Corran could already see Two Flight moving into escort formation around the two freighters as the first wave of TIEs cleared the lead Destroyer’s bay. Two more smuggling ships were quickly sprinting towards the Rogue’s current position while two other followed at a more lumbering pace, escorted by One Flight. 

Corran adjusted his comm back to Tach 2, Three Flight’s private frequency. “Our freighters are coming up fast. Ten and I will take the lead, the rest of you on the tail. Remember to watch these people; we don’t know where there guns might be aiming. Just concentrate on making it through the TIEs in one piece.” He brought up the lead freighter’s transponder data. “_Peace of Gionk_, this is Rogues Nine and Ten. We’re you’re escort. Form up to starboard and we’ll run you through the gauntlet.” 

“Such a comfort to know you’re at my back, Rogue Nine,” a familiar sarcastic voice drifted over the comm.

“I live to serve,” Corran replied obsequious voice just to irk Mara. He brought his targeting computer online, checking the position of the oncoming onslaught of TIE fighters. _I could use the Force to search out any hostiles as Luke once suggested, but too many lives would be at risk if made a mistake. After all, Plourr would definitely fall under the category of ‘hostile.’ Tried and true will have to do this time. _The squadron of TIEs shown bright red against the green hue of the targeting computer. “Only one squadron. Are the Imps really getting that stupid?” 

“No, they always were that stupid,” Plourr responded. “Bring up your torpedoes, Twelve and Eleven. It’s time to do some hunting.” The three X-Wings and their freighter accelerated towards the exit vector, their current path slicing through the enemy line. 

“Captain Jade, with your permission, we’ll take lead,” Corran requested. 

She responded with a snort. “I really do need to quit listening to Terrik about you. Permission granted. This time I’ll take low if you go high.” 

His S-Foils locked into attack position, he tore after a pair of TIEs blocking their exit vector, Ooryl close on his wing. At their approach, the pair of TIEs separated; the lead rolling to port while the other continued along its current course, its green lasers scattering harmlessly off the X-Wings shields. Corran returned fire, triggering a quad blast slightly to the left of the TIE, causing it to veer into Ooryl’s awaiting sights. The glowing green TIE winked off the targeting display as it shattered into debris.

Wrenching the stick hard to the side and back, his banking roll brought him inline to follow the second fighter. Peppering the shields of the _Peace_ with darts of laser fire, it seemed unconcerned with the incoming snubfighters. Corran dropped his crosshairs over the time, trying to scare it into drifting into Mara’s line of fire. The TIE ignored the lock, continuing to attack the freighter. _Either this guy is too stupid to live, or so smart he’s stupid_, Corran mused as he fired a dual linked red blast at the fighter. 

As the lasers hurdled towards their target, the TIE pulled hard around the bottom of the _Peace_. The _Peace’s_ shields flickered as Corran’s lasers hammered at them, protecting the nimble TIE. “Watch it, Nine,” Mara growled. “You ding my ship and I’ll vape yours.” 

“Sorry about that, these guys are a little better than they look,” Corran responded guiltily. _All right Horn, time to start flying like you earned your reputation_. He cut quickly around the _Peace_, Ooryl tucked closely on his wing. Together, they pursued the bobbing TIE into the furball developing around the freighters. 

Beams of light slashed their way through the vacuum of space as freighter and fighter alike sought to destroy each other. Plourr and her companions shot by Corran’s forward view port, the TIE they had been chasing exploding into twinkling, burning dust. He dove after his own target, and then wrenched his stick hard to starboard, throttling down. The maneuver sent him into a skidding slide as the TIE looped back towards the _Peace_. With Ooryl still hot on his tail, the TIE didn’t notice Corran’s well placed torpedo until it was too late. Another fireball bloomed in the sky. 

“Sir!” Reme’s panicked cry pierced the comm waves. “We went into the furball and then we were through and then there was a fireball and Seven is gone!” 

“What?” Wes roared over the comm. “Okay Imps, time to die!” 

Hobbie’s mournful voice silenced Wes’ battle cry. “Varth, switch wingmates with me. That’s an order. Wes, remember Herian’s sim? Rein it in and stay on my wing, we’ll do this together.” 

“I’m right here you idiots! That was the eyeball. Eight, get back here and help me vape this guy!” A wave of relief flooded Corran as Inyri replied. He glanced at his scanner and saw two X-Wings returning to the fray. 

A second glance wiped the smile off his face. “Lead, we’ve got three squadrons of interceptors inbound. They’re blocking our exit vector.” 

“I see that,” remarked Colonel Celchu, his voice calm. “They’ll be here in two minutes, which means at the one minute mark I want everyone to break their current engagement and make a run at the new comers. Break by flight and don’t stop to engage, just get those freighters clear. And don’t wait for the squadron to jump, get out when you can.” 

Twelve voiced chimed terse confirmations as the battle continued. While the Rogues flittered about chasing the eyes, the freighters were collecting their fair share of the kills. Mara gave a crow of victory as Corran and Ooryl chased a TIE into the range of her guns. 

“Glad to bring a little joy into your life,” Corran teased. 

“Quiet you or I’ll show you want makes me really happy.” 

“Bring it on _Peace_, bring it on.” 

“All Rogues, break now,” Tycho’s voice sliced in. 

Immediately Corran brought his fighter into a slow looping roll that shifted his course to meet the incoming interceptors head on. Ooryl followed with the precision of an experienced wingman with Mara close behind. Plourr’s trio scrambled to follow; taking up a guard position at their freighter’s aft. The few eyeballs that remained made no move to follow. Instead, they positioned themselves at post that would allow them to intercept anyone attempting to return to the planet. 

“Okay, Three Flight, this is how we’re going to do this. I want everyone to target a flight of TIEs with one of their torpedoes. Aim right in the middle of their little box formations, it’ll do the maximum amount of damage.” 

“First bright thing you’ve said all day,” Plourr remarked. 

Corran ignored her, bringing his targeting recticle inline with the lead flight of squints. Whistler gave him a solid tone, indicating a good lock. “Okay, mark!” 

Five proton torpedoes streaked off in search of their prey, but as Corran watched, the three groups of TIE did something strange. They dove together, tightening their formation into a small cluster in an impressive display of precision flying. As the torpedoes zeroed in, the TIEs suddenly burst apart, their throttles set to maximum. Each shot away from the formations former center before making steep dives down towards the approaching Rogues. The torpedoes, now finding no targets but each other, burst into a blinding fireball. 

“Sithspawn! Accelerate to full speed and take out what you can with lasers. Freighters, hang on!” Pouring power from his aft shields into his forward arc, he depressed the trigger, snapping off shots as fast as the laser could recharge. One interceptor burst into flames. A hail of green light showered the X-Wings as the remaining squints passed. “We’re almost there!” 

“They’re looping back, Nine,” exclaimed Ghufran. “One of them has a targeting lock on me. Breaking off to engage.” 

“Negative Twelve. Just weave. Stay on course and evade.” Corran said soothingly, letting a soothing tendril of the Force envelope Ghufran. 

“Alright, I can handle this.” _I hope she can, just for a little while longer. Why does the run up to lightspeed have to take so long?_

Whistler squealed in alarm as a green bolt sizzled past from behind. Quickly, Corran evened out his shields. “How soon, _Peace_?” 

“Five minutes. Four if you don’t mind us getting out ahead.” 

“Do it.” The two freighters edged out infront of the five X-Wings, light across their shields scattering from the trailing squints. With their superior speed and acceleration, they were quickly gaining once more on the Rogues. 

“I can do this, I can do this,” Ghufran’s voice was steady, but the fact she was speaking aloud at all betrayed her nerves. On rear scanner, Corran could see she was busy bobbing and slide slipping like the other Rogues, but the lead TIE was about to overtake her. 

“Eleven, can you help…” Corran’s voice cut off as a blast of pain and fear hit him through the Force before rapidly evaporating. He didn’t need to look at the scope to know Ghufran was no more. Taking deep breaths and holding them for five seconds apiece, he allowed the feelings to flow past. “Eleven, drop at torp without a lighting the engine. We’ll see if we can’t deter them a bit. Thirteen, do the same.” He hesitated to perform the maneuver himself, knowing that the torpedo’s fuse might be triggered by the trailing Rogues. 

The torpedoes slid from their launch tubes and traveled dangerously near Eleven’s and Thirteen’s ships before the X-Wings accelerated past. Without their hot engines burning, they didn’t register on the TIE’s scopes. The torps slammed into two unfortunate interceptors, leaving a single squint dogging Three Flight’s path. 

“I will take the remaining TIE,” came Octaten’s clipped voice. He did a simple weave pattern, not usually used in such pursuits due to its predictability. The interceptor caught on quickly, peppering the Givin’s rear shields. Despite this deterrent, Binin continued his weave, expanding it further and further outward with lazy arcs. The squint’s path widened as well, but quickly became erratic. As Octaten pitched forward in a gentle climb, the interceptor shot off at a much higher angle. Quickly, the Givin throttled back his engines and rapidly pitched back, allowing him to target the TIE with a deadly quad linked laser blast. The TIE gone, the Gand resumed his position at the rear of the pack. 

Corran let out a low whistle. “How did you know the squint would do that?” 

“The equations of grace are directly proportionate to the second derivative of where. As the second of where increases, the instability of the squint increases, becoming exponential and therefore capable of linear interception and termination.” 

“Whatever,” Corran said massaging the ridge of his helmet in the place of his inaccessible temples. _Definitely getting that translation program._ “Just make sure you teach the rest of the squadron that trick.” Turning in slightly in his seat, he glanced out the X-Wing’s canopy to see how the rest of the squadron was fairing. Off his starboard wing, Two Flight had already disappeared into hyperspace. Corran guessed that the dissipating debris clouds were mostly due to Janson’s extremely accurate shooting over large distances. Looking aft, he was concerned to see that One Flight was still struggling out of the picket, a forth squadron having joined the fight. 

“_Peace_, are you okay from here?” 

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you know,” Mara growled in response. 

“Yes, just checking. May the Force be with you.” 

“And you, Nine.” She hesitated, leaving her comm on a moment longer. “Listen, just remember ‘Size matters not.’”

“What?” 

“I don’t know. I just have a feeling you should remind Celchu about that. Something’s not right. Take care of yourself. _Peace of Gionk_, out.” 

The two freighters winked out of sight as they jumped to lightspeed. Corran stopped Whistler from broadcasting coordinates for a similar jump. “We’re going back for the others.” Whistler tweedled a response. “Yes, I know we’re under orders, but they need help.” A loud beep issued from the droid. Corran glanced at his translation screen. “I know Mirax will dismantle you if you let me get hurt, but I don’t plan on getting hurt. If we don’t turn back, I’m getting you that memory wipe I’ve been putting off for years.” Whistler blew a rubbery raspberry. “I don’t care how many copies of your memory you’ve hidden; I’ll have the tech remove your data probe as well.” The small green droid gave an ear piercing shriek before silencing and bringing up the targeting computer. 

“Three Flight, I’m head back in. You’re welcome to join me or sit this one out.” 

A whoop met his words. “You might be alright after all, Corsec.” 

The four X-Wings speed back towards their comrades who were desperately fighting for their lives. Although scrap from many TIEs littered the area, many more swarmed around. Now, the _Chimaera_ formed a physical blockade between One Flight and their exit route. Three Flight would have to skirt around the Destroyer or attack it if they wanted to rescue their friends. “So, attack or evade?” Corran questioned his flight. 

The answer that came over the general frequency was unexpected, to say the least. “Rogue Squadron, this is Vice Admiral Gilad Pellaeon. Power down your weapons and we will cease hostilities. I wish to have a talk with you.” 


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 21

It felt weird to be aboard an Imperial ship once more. From the moment his feet hit the deck, Tycho could feel his back straighten and his gait stiffen. Years of Imperial training rushed back to him, and he fought desperately to deny his past and focus on the present. 

Like most ships in the Imperial Navy, the decks of the ship shone while troopers marched by in precisely arrayed ranks. His escort, a Captain Vermel, could have been on a recruitment poster for the Navy, with his perfect posture and close trimmed light hair. Despite this cold presentation, the man had greeted Tycho with an honestly friendly smile before offering to escort him to the Admiral’s private conference room. 

The Captain gestured to an open door along the hall and then took the place of the stormtrooper guarding the entrance. _That’s an odd chore for an officer._ Forcing himself to relax, Tycho entered the conference room. 

The large room was spacious, but void of any furniture save for the table and chairs, it seemed cavernous. A plain, sterile white dominated the room, with none of the Mon Calamari’s blues or gentle curves to alleviate its severity. There were, however, two points of interest in the room. One was a beautiful relief painting of the Wuitho Trifalls. The way the torrent flow of the waterfall and the jutting of the rocks had been captured made Tycho’s heartache for home. The second was the man standing aside the painting, dressed in a grey Imperial uniform. “Vice Admiral Pellaeon.” 

“Greetings, Colonel Celchu. I must say I’m surprised to see you leading Rogue Squadron. I had hoped to speak with General Antilles. Please, have a seat.” He gestured to a seat long the near side of the table, himself taking the one directly opposing it. 

Tycho knew enough about diplomacy to realize that by not sitting at the head of the table, the Vice Admiral was affording him considerable respect and suggesting a more informal tone. “General Antilles is currently causing your Fleet problems elsewhere.” He took the proffered chair. “And your painting would suggest otherwise.” 

A cunning smile lit the older man’s lined face. “Ahh, perhaps Antilles’ absence will not be such a loss. May I offer you food or drink?” He waved his hand towards a door set in the back wall, probably leading to a small kitchen or food preparation unit. _Or an assassin_. 

“I’m afraid not. I’d hate to dally her in luxury as my people suffer in their cramped, snubfighters as their power and air slowly drain.” The Vice Admiral lifted his brow at the airy, mocking tone Tycho used. 

“No, that certainly wouldn’t be appropriate. Let’s get down to business, shall we?” Pellaeon asked in a serious tone. 

Tycho nodded for the man to continue, wary of what this ‘business’ might be. 

“As you may have noticed, a person or persons unknown vaporized a good stretch of land here. How remains a mystery. Upon receiving word of this incident from an undisclosed source, I planned on coming here to bear witness to the New Republic’s hypocritical travesty.” 

“But you no longer believe this is the case,” Tycho said shrewdly, studying the Pellaeon’s general friendly manner. 

“If the New Republic were in position of such a weapon, I highly doubt they would leave a valuable asset to be destroyed by a small group of Imperials. Surely we would be granted a demonstration of the weapon’s might.” 

“Perhaps the weapon works so well, the New Republic no longer cares about the fate an outdated starfighter squadron.” 

“But if they had such a weapon, you wouldn’t be flying under their colors, would you?” 

The rhetorical nature of the question set Tycho ill at ease. While in his days at the Academy and after he had known many decent Imperials, the destruction of Alderaan had killed any sympathy he had towards them. Pellaeon had realized that, but now twisted it to match his own motives. “I would not fly for anyone who could callously destroy innocent life in that manner.” 

“Yet Carida is now dead, it’s native population wiped out in addition to the Academy,” the older man bridged his fingers, the cunning smile remaining in place. 

“The weapon that destroyed it has been disposed of, its pilot paying a penance.” Struggling, Tycho managed to keep his thoughts about Kyp Durron off his face. 

“Yes, I suppose becoming a hero of the New Republic is a rather steep price to pay. Sadly, I did not invite you here to discuss philosophy of redemption with you, but I have illustrated my point; the existence of such a weapon in New Republic hands would harbor no good.” 

“Nor is the existence of such a weapon in Imperial hands bode well for the galaxy.” Tycho narrowed his eyes at the Admiral, wondering where this conversation was heading. 

“Believe it or not, we agree on this point. I believe we also agree that seeing one of these weapons in independent hands, such as one of the Warlords, would be disastrous.” 

“It appears we do actually agree on some things. Perhaps this is enough grounds to broker a treaty so that peace may rule the galaxy,” Tycho said sarcastically. A heart wished he could speak these words with seriousness, but his mind new that that day would be along time off. _Some days I doubt that I’ll ever see peace in my lifetime, although if I’m not careful here, that lifetime will be considerably shorter._

The Admiral’s mustache twitched in amusement. “I think not. I still have very strict orders to wipe all rebellious slime from the face of the galaxy.” 

“And I still have a duty to bring freedom from imperialistic tyrannical rule to all peoples in the galaxy.” 

“And so we must diverge. However, I believe there may be other points we agree on.” He thumbed a switch. A holo sprang to life, showing the revolving head of a hard looking man wearing an Imperial Officer’s cap. A glowing optical replaced one eye, while the skin of his face was contorted by horrible burn scars. “I believe you are familiar with Warlord Harrsk?”

“Yes. He’s the leader of a major faction that chose to defy Pestage and Isard and escape towards the Core. He’s now in possession of a large chunk of the galaxy, along with Warlord Teradoc.” 

Pellaeon nodded. “I believe his is also in possession of the weapon that caused the lovely landscaping out the forward viewport.” He slid a datacard across the table. It skidded to a halt just shy of Tycho’s hand. “The current coordinates of Harrsk’s base is on there. Happy hunting.” He rose from his seat, a clear dismissal. 

Tycho hesitated and remained seated. “Why?” 

“Because,” Pellaeon turned a feral grin towards Tycho, “if you did this much damage to my people, I can’t wait to see what damage you do to that traitor. As a Vice Admiral, I cannot attack a fellow Imperial Officer, however I can happily sit back and watch the Rebels do my work for me.”

“And the weapon?” Tycho questioned. 

“I trust that a son of Alderaan would know what to do with it. It has been a pleasure, Colonel Celchu. You and your people are free to leave the system. Captain Vermel will escort you out.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Tycho stood and they shook hands. He left the conference room, following the friendly Captain, feeling more confused than ever and wondering when the term Alderaanian had gained so much respect with Imperial Officers. 


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 22

“Well, I convinced Booster to let us use his ship as a launching point for our little attack but he refuses to bring it into battle,” Corran said, plopping down at the table across from Tycho and swiping one of the cold bottles of ale sitting on the table. He held the bottle to his head, delighting in its coolness before twisting off the top. 

“That’s good,” Tycho yawned. “’Cuse me. Wes, Hobbie and I have been plotting how to attack Harrsk’s base of operations using only a single starfighter squadron, and I’m afraid it’s drained me rather thoroughly.” He waved his bottle in his hand. “This probably isn’t helping matters. So, how did you persuade Booster?” 

“I told him he really that it would be really nice if he did his son in law a favor for a change.” 

Tycho raised an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“Okay, I told him if he didn’t, all of his grand kids would be named Corran Junior.” 

The Alderaanian laughed. “Well, good job and I hope you get a chance to make good on that threat one day.” 

Corran glanced around the small private lounge, usually used by bridge officers on break. “So where are the Majors?” 

“Off searching the cantinas on Blue Level, or so they claim. I think Hobbie was looking for that female Devaronian he ran into last time.” While Hobbie had insisted that finding Nanner would help in the search for the Defender, Tycho felt rather skeptical about his motives. 

“Well, I hope they don’t get into trouble, Booster’s ornery enough as it is.” 

“They’re always in trouble. I’m more worried about Plourr and Inyri. They said something about hitting the sabacc tables down on Black Level. I hate to think of what kind of trouble those two can stir up down there.” Tycho winced and took a long pull of his drink. 

Corran just shuddered. 

“Oh, that reminds me. Would you mind flying with Reme Pollar on your wing for a while?” 

“Sure, but why?” 

“I’m worried about her after that little panic attack she had. She’s never been in any ‘impossible’ situations before, save for that attack against the _Invidious_, and I’d rather have someone with a little more skill than Inyri on her wing. I’m also going to let Wes and Hobbie stay together for a while longer. Inyri can fly with Varth.” Sometimes it astounding Tycho how a simple change could wreak so much havoc on a squadron’s dynamic. “At least with Plourr staying on, no one will be flying without a wingman now that we lost Ghufran.” 

“So Ooryl’s flying with you?” 

“No, he’ll stay in Three Flight with Binin and I’ll take Plourr off your hands.”

Corran leaned back with a smile of pure bliss on his face. “Thank you! I owe you a drink. Make that two drinks.” 

“I’m sure I’ll need them by the time this mess is over,” Tycho groaned. “I contacted Iella, and she can’t find anything relating Harrsk to this business, so we don’t know if Pelleaon was lying or not. There’s no sign that Harrsk is actually the Defender. She’s also had no luck tracing those holo transmissions that are screwing up the navicomps.”

“That doesn’t sound like our Iella,” Corran joked, but his brow knit in concern. 

“I think she has a lot on her mind. She did say that she has a contact that may be able to help.” Contemplating his friends’ overly complex love lives, Tycho didn’t register the newcomer until he spoke. 

“Um, excuse me.” Looking up, Tycho saw a young man, no more than eighteen years old, dressed in simple homespun. His hair stood up rather scruffily, evidently caused by his constant habit of running his hand through his hair, which he started to do now. 

“Hello, can we help you?” The homespun resembled the robes that Luke commonly wore, but given the kid’s age, he may simple be a devoted fan. 

“I’m Zeth Fost, one of Master Skywalker’s students. I was wondering if I could test you and the members of your squadron for Force sensitivity. It’s quiet common that people who demonstrate amazing feats of skill often have some talent in the Force.” The words came out in an enthusiastic rush, betraying either eagerness or nerves; Tycho could not distinguish which. 

“We’re just running into everyone these days,” Corran muttered darkly under his breath. Aloud, he continued in a disdainful tone of voice Tycho had not heard him use since the departure of Bror Jace from the squadron. “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t want my brain fried like that Dr. Xux.” His lips curled in an unfriendly sneer. “You’re Kyp Durron, aren’t you? I’ve seen your picture on the holonews. Galaxy’s Most Wanted, I believe.”

_Obviously, Corran has some history with our young mass murderer. _Tycho studied the young man that had once killed millions of people. Nothing about his appearance invoked images of Moff Tarkin and Lord Vader. Only the hardness about his eyes and the roiling turmoil with in those dark eyes suggested that he was anything but a normal teenager. Tycho felt torn between his anger at the murderer and his sympathy for the tragic teen. But as thoughts of Alderaan percolated through his brain, the fire of his anger quickly grew. 

“Yes, I am,” the kid admitted reluctantly. “I know I did some awful things, but now I’m trying to do some good. We need to find Force sensitives so they can be properly trained before they fall to the Dark Side.”

Corran rolled his eyes while Tycho maintained his observant, but slightly seething, silence. “Oh, so you need training to be a Sith these days?” 

“That’s not what I meant. Please, just let me…” His voice was sincere and pleading. 

Bottling his thoughts on the young man’s past history, Tycho let out a sigh and interrupted Corran’s next scathing remark. “I’m sorry Durron, I’m going to have to deny your request. The last thing this galaxy needs is the likes of Janson and Estillo running around with lightsabers. However, there is something you can help us with.” 

Although frowning at Tycho’s denial, Kyp perked up a bit at the request for help. “Oh, what’s that?” 

Keeping his tone light, he gently broached a subject that he knew would cause the man pain. Although he had no desire to hurt the kid on purpose, as Corran seemed determined to do, Tycho cared less about the young man’s feelings than he did about obtaining possible vital information. “Tell me, from the memories you took from Qwi Xux, are there any more super weapons out there?” 

It was as if Tycho had lit a bomb made by explosions expert Kell Tainer himself. A sudden transformation overtook the mild mannered kid, igniting fury in his eyes and distain in his voice. “You ask me that? Do you have any idea how much pain and suffering another super weapon would cause? You military types are all alike; all you can think of is having a bigger weapon than the other guy.” 

Corran stood, positioning himself between the raging young man and his superior officer. Sneering, he spoke, “Hey, at least none of us has run amok blowing up stars. We only kill when we have to and we remember every death. Tell me, did you paint your kills on the Star Crusher? Oh, I forgot, no where in the galaxy do they make that much paint.” 

Corran’s sharp remarks punctured the kid’s rage like a balloon. Durron’s shoulders slumped and his face lost all of his indignant rage. “Why don’t you just kill me then? It’s clear that you’ll never think of me as anything more than a murderer.” 

“Don’t tempt me,” Corran growled, setting his hand on his blaster. 

“What in the Nine Hells of Corellia is going on here,” roared a towering man who had just entered the lounge. The man’s red optical replacement glowed in fury as he surveyed the pair of men, one locked in a fighter’s stance, the other standing as if resigned to his death. 

“Just a disagreement among friends, Booster,” Tycho told the ship’s Captain gently, praying that he would leave the situation alone. 

But Booster continued to study the pair. Abruptly, his face darkened as he stared at Kyp. “I know you; you’re one of those Jedi brats.” His glare increased as his voice dropped to a bass rumble. “I want you off my ship.” 

Kyp threw his hands up in frustration. “Yes, I’m the Killer of Carida! Just put me out of my misery if you’re not going to let me do my job! Master Skywalker sends me out to go find and help other Force sensitives, hoping it will help me atone for what I did. But he seems to have forgotten about all of the idiots in this galaxy that refuse to see reason.” 

“We’ll listen to reason when we see the product of some,” Corran growled. 

“I don’t care what you’re doing here, you could be selling ‘fresher cleaners for all I care! Get off my ship! I won’t have any Jedi brats aboard this ship, deterring business. Now get off!” Booster seized the young man by his shoulders and shoved him bodily into the corridor. Brushing off his hands in satisfaction, he turned towards the small counter and began fiddling with the caff dispenser. 

“I don’t know what scarier, that Kyp Durron is loose in the galaxy or that Booster and I agree on something for once,” Corran whispered in a low voice. 

“I take it you two didn’t get along at the Academy?” 

“Putting it mildly.”

“Well, that was decidedly un-Jedi like of you, baiting him like that,” Tycho admonished his friend. 

“Baiting, me? I’m not the one who questioned him on super weapons.” Corran tossed down the rest of his drink, wincing slightly as the alcohol clawed at his throat. 

“I know, but it had to be done. It worries me that we still have no idea what we’re dealing with. It worries me even more that the Imps would be just as happy to get rid of it.” 

“Yeah, I don’t like this business either. As for Kyp, I’ve seen this with delinquents before, he could use a good wake up call. I’d love to give him a nasty one,” the former Corsec officer mused. 

“I’m impressed you haven’t already. After seeing you and Bror Jace at each other’s throats all those years ago, I’m surprised Durron’s not walking around thinking he is a mynock,” Tycho teased, finishing his own drink. 

An oddly mature expression took hold of Corran’s face as he stared blankly at a bulkhead wall. “Luke reminded me that the Force isn’t for playing pranks. Being a Jedi comes with heavy responsibilities and knowing when to use the Force is one of them. Sometimes it’s best to know when not to use it all. I don’t think Durron’s learned that yet.” 

“I hope he will, for all of our sakes,” Tycho responded contemplatively. He slapped the table as he gathered his feet beneath him and rose. “Enough talk about things we can’t control. Let’s take one last look at the battle plan before I hit the sack.” 


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 23

Pulling her hair back from her face, Iella heaved a sigh of frustration. While the Rogues had covered a lot of ground over the past few weeks, little of it gave any direct indication as to what was going on. While she didn’t expect the Defender to put up a giant holoboard that said ‘Evil Plot Here,’ she would like it if some of the pieces actually fit together. 

So far, she knew that an Imperial Vice Admiral had accused an Imperial Warlord of possessing a weapon of devastating capacity. Said weapon had wiped out a settlement of Gamorreans using manned turbolaser cannons. Data from the traffic control feeds over Commenor also indicated that Red Skies extended jump path would have passed through the Moonflower Nebulae located a short distance from the Gamorrean’s planet. Red Skies had been lured there by a transmission through a holonet relay satellite, similar to the one used to bring the Rogues to Sperin to meet with the Defender’s goons. 

All of this seemed to indicate that Warlord Harrsk was in fact the Defender and that the Rogues were on the right track, but Iella still wasn’t comfortable with that conclusion. While Harrsk had been suspiciously quiet as of late, the use of smugglers and other fringe types went against his usual method of operation. The other thing that concerned Iella was Bishi’s interest in the destruction of the _Conflagration_. The files on the _Conflagration_ only mentioned its disappearance above Mrlsst, but portions of the record were sealed. Given the technological capabilities of the University of Mrlsst, it would be no surprise to learn that they had a weapon of their own. But if Harrsk already had a super weapon, he would have no need to search out others. 

There was also the matter of the holonet. While seemingly minor in nature and easy to remedy, the use of the holonet to change the coordinates in a navicomp greatly worried many in the military. Even Ghent could not find the method by which the signals were being sliced. All he could find were signs of the errant broadcasts after the fact, as they created errors in the data stream. While he seemed to think this indicated the work of an inexperienced slicer, the mysterious methods of entry seemed to indicate otherwise. 

Iella’s temples pounded as she tried to comprehend the situation. Usually at such times, she would grab a couple cups of very strong caff and seek out the friendly assistance of Corran, Mirax, or Wedge. But with Mirax busy with work and Corran off with the Rogues, she had no one to turn to. She no longer considered running to Wedge an option as he now spent his free time with _that woman_. 

The comm at her desk beeped. Sighing, she flicked it on. “Agent Wessiri here.” 

“Ms. Wessiri, you have a holocall from the Bothan Martial Academy on Kothlis. You can take it on the A-9 secure line.” The division’s secretary sounded almost chipper today. _Her date must have gone well last night. At least there are decent men left somewhere in this galaxy_. 

“I’ll take it in Cracken’s office.” She turned off the comm and secured her terminal, following the lock down procedure required any time an agent left their desk, if only to use the ‘fresher. Stepping in to Cracken’s empty office, she switched on the glowpanel and settled into his overly stuffed, comfortable chair. _Sometimes being the boss’s favorite has its advantages_. 

Keying in her password, she watched as the holocomm sprung to life. Above the desk, the sleek form of a female Bothan coalesced. “Instructor Liska Fey’sha, it’s very kind of you to return my call.” 

The black furred Bothan bowed her head slightly. “No problem at all. Are we secure?” 

“We’re secure. It’s good to see you again,” Iella smiled warmly at her friend. “Although I was a little surprised that you chose the Fey clan.” 

The Bothan’s pointed teeth enhanced her predatory grin. “Bothan warfare tends to be subtle. It may take decades, but I will have Fey’la know that the revolution started due to his own unjust dealings.” 

The blonde woman laughed at the thought of Fey’la stewing in fury at the thought of someone in his own clan opposing him. “I take it things are going well.” 

“Very. I have a student, one of the grandsons of that old gnort Kre’fey, who has much potential. Due to General Kre’fey’s blunder, he has been grown up scorned by the Bothan populous and does not adhere to some of the more ridiculous principles of manipulation and power mongering that have corrupted so many others. He is a good pilot, capable of downing even me, but I have encouraged him to develop his tactical skills. He will make a fine Fleet Officer.” Pride shown in her violet eyes. 

“That’s good to hear, we could use more good leaders. I hope you don’t mind, but the reason I called is to pester you for information,” Iella admitted. 

The Bothan female studied her cautiously. “What sort of information?” 

“I need anything you have on Warlord Harrsk’s dealings as well as what you can find out about the demise of the _Conflagration_. And if that’s not enough, I need you to get one of those infamous Bothan slicers to figure out how a person can slice into the holonet to not only send private messages, but broadcast new coordinates to standard navicomps.” She ticked the points off on her fingers, hoping that in her caff-depleted daze she wouldn’t forget one. 

“That is a tall order. I will see what I can do without drawing attention to myself.” 

“Thank you. I owe you one.” 

“I believe it is I who owe you, Iella. I owe the three of you my life and my purpose. But perhaps, a small favor?” she asked hesitantly. 

“Anything,” Iella offered. 

“Please,” the Bothan stopped, steeling herself for something. “Please tell me, how is Gavin?” 

Sorrow washed through Iella at hearing Asyr’s request. She had always regretted helping the Bothan fake her death, leaving her mourning lover behind without a single goodbye. Iella searched for the right words, but could only find simple fact. “He’s doing well.” 

“I saw the marriage holos on the sludge news,” Asyr responded haltingly. 

“Her name is Sera.” She averted her eyes from the Bothan’s desperate gaze. “She’s the social worker who helped Gavin adopt his boys. They have a daughter on the way.” She hesitated, but plowed on. “He loves her very much.” 

“Then he has moved on as I asked him to,” Asyr stated, a bit of pride returning to her voice. “He is strong and will do well raising children.” 

“Yes, he will,” Iella agreed with a sad tight smile. “Tycho said he’s doing well in the squadron and even considers him a better officer than Wes and Hobbie.” 

“Gavin will be a great leader; of this I have no doubt. He reminds me much of General Antilles. How is the General doing?

The smile on Iella’s faced tightened into a grimace. “I’m not the person you want to be asking that.” 

“I have seen the reports, but I did not believe them.” 

“Oh, they’re right. Hero of the Alliance General Wedge Antilles Falls Head-Over-Heals for Flakey Blue Imperial Weapons Scientist.” Her tone was scathing as she thought of _that woman_ that had destroyed everything. 

The predatory grin returned to Asyr’s face. “It is quiet common in Bothan society that when more than one female love stalks a male that they compete in single combat for his affection.” 

Iella lifted the hand that had fallen over her eyes and peered at Asyr. “I am not fighting _that woman_ for Wedge.” 

“You want him, do you not? What is the problem? I suspect that you could easily break her neck within the first five seconds of the match.” 

Iella smiled slightly at the thought of wrapping her hands around _that woman’s_ neck, but then she rolled her head back in frustration and confusion. “I don’t even know if I want him back anymore. It’s not as if he was mine to begin with, I never made the move. But now, every time I see him, it _hurts_.” She closed her eyes, continuing, “Every time I see him, I want to lash out, to make him hurt as much as I do.” 

“Perhaps he does not know what he has done to you. Maybe Colonel Celchu could help make your case to him.” 

“I suspect Tycho’s well aware of the situation by the way I’ve been acting recently. Besides, he has his own troubles.” She shifted in Cracken’s chair to meet Aysr’s gaze. “Tell me. How do you do it? How can you stand seeing Gavin with another woman? How can you be so happy for them?” In the midst of her plea, she had leaned so she sat on the edge of her chair, eager for the answer to her troubles. 

Asyr thought quietly for several long moments. “I love him, Iella. I love him so much that I want him to be happy. Once, that meant we were happy together. But now my happiness lies with other things, so I must rejoice in his happiness apart.” 

Iella considered the Bothan’s words, holding her head in her hands with her elbows resting on her knees. “I guess that’s what I need to do. I loved him enough to let him have his space, now I have to love him enough to respect his choice.” She lifted her head, revealing to Asyr the tears that now trickled down her cheeks. “But it hurts so much.” 

“It always will, Iella. It always will.” 


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 24

“All this sulking about, wearing funny clothing, this is the kind of torture Wraiths are meant for,” Wes moped as he peered around the corner of the ferrocrete building to study Warlord Harrsk’s gated, towering complex. He and his three companions wore native robes, airy draping things meant to allow movement in the blistering heat of Spuma’s day. At night, however, they served a different, more useful purpose. They disguised the shape of heavy blaster carbines rather well. 

The four Rogues had been carefully inserted into Spuma on a freighter belonging to an associate of Booster’s. While the smuggler hadn’t been happy about his new contraband, his disposition had warmed upon being reminded of they huge debts he owed in Trader’s Alley. Spuma was a rather small planet and its only claim to importance was its proximity to Generis, home to one of the galaxy’s largest holorelays. It also housed Warlord Harrsk’s primary complex, placing him within dangerously easy reach of the relay. Although the Rogues were only here to collect information on Harrsk’s toy, any damage they could do to the complex and garrison would aid the New Republic. 

Checking his chrono, Wes carefully shifted his blaster into a proper two-handed grip. Nodding, he motioned the others to do the same. After they obeyed, he turned, once again peering towards the complex. _The next time Tycho plans a suicide mission, he can do the hard work himself. What did I do to deserve command of this mission? I haven’t pranked him for _weeks_. Months even. And this is the thanks I get? When we get back to Coruscant, Colonel Psycho Celchu is waking up next to a stuffed nerf head. _

Suddenly eight starfighters roared overhead, strafing the complex as they eluded the screaming TIEs hot on their tails. Fires lit the complex, panicking guards silhouetted against flickering flames. The X-Wings sped off into the distance before aligning for another pass. 

“Go!” Wes shouted, charging forward. Nearing the now twisted and smoking gates, he snapped off a quick shot, catching a hapless guard in the chest. He vaulted over the heap of now useless metal, the others hot on his heels. A second guard dropped as a salvo from Ooryl’s blaster tore through his leg. 

Four more guards stood before the door, sending a deadly hail of laser blasts towards the attackers. Janson and his subordinates dropped to the ground, narrowly avoiding the bolts. He glanced around, searching for a way return fire without getting his head blown off. Crawling on his elbows, he made his way to a large piece of gate that sat nearby. He sighted his blaster on the lead guard as a sudden barrage of turbolaser fire cut through the guards and blew in the doors of the compound, leaving deep black charring on the ferrocrete brick. A green X-Wing zipped overhead, waggling a wing towards his comrades on the ground. Ooryl and Octaten rushed the battered door as Wes and Alinn sprayed their rear arc with cover fire. 

Hazy smoke filled the elegant lobby. Black scorches scarred the elegant wood paneling where Ooryl had shot out the cams. A human woman wearing an impossibly small skirt that matched the jacket over her plunging blouse cowered behind the desk. A bank of holoscreens danced behind her, displaying not only the chaos outside, but scenes from various corridors and offices. So far, other than the bodies slumped in the corners, there were no signs of the guards. 

Wes watched as Octaten approached the woman, who was obviously terrified of his skeletal Givin features. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as a he proceeded to bind and gag her. Wes turned to the Gand by his side. “Ooryl, can you hold position here and watch our backs on the cams?”

“I would be honored to watch your backs, but holding this position would be easier with a platoon of Ewoks, yes?” he clicked. 

Wes raised an eyebrow. “Was that a joke, Captain?” 

“Ooryl apologizes if he did not tell it correctly.” 

Clapping a hand on Ooryl’s back, Wes grinned. “No, you got it right. Remind me when we get back to have you assist me with a couple projects. We’ll make you into a smart mouthed prankster pilot yet.”

“Your offer thrills me,” Ooryl responded as he moved to a post where he could monitor both the displays and the main door without standing in the line of fire. 

Wes studied the Gand. _Was that sarcasm?_ Shaking his head, he motioned for Varth and Octaten to follow him to the bank of turbolifts. He punched the call button several times. 

“Sir, are you sure taking the turbolift is wise?” Alinn questioned hesitantly. 

“I don’t feel like running up and down the stairs. And I thought I told you I’m not a sir.” The glowpanels on the walls indicated that all four turbolifts would soon arrive. He punched the button a few more times for luck. As the lifts opened, he motioned to everybody to hide behind the corner. Blaster primed, he watched the lifts open. There was no one inside. 

“Okay everyone, into the lift. And hold the doors for me a second.” He jumped into the lift alongside the one that Alinn and Binin currently occupied and gleefully pressed several of the floor buttons. He jumped out quickly before the doors shut and repeated the process with the other two lifts. Then he joined the other Rogues in the lift, punching a couple buttons before finally hitting the one for the master suite on the top floor. 

“Not-Sir, what are you doing?” Alinn looked rather confused at his childish behavior. 

“Sowing a bit of confusion into the mix. Here, stay down and hide on this side of the door. Octaten, you’ve got the other.” They crouched on either side of the door, staying out of the line of fire, as the lift opened on the forth floor. They waited silently as the door cycled, anxiously expecting a hail of lasers to meet them at any moment. The door closed, and they were safe again. 

They repeated this procedure on two more floors, only once hearing voices of confused guards, too busy studying the strafing Rogues outside the window to notice the errant turbolift. Finally, they reached the top floor. This time, red bolts peppered the lift as it opened. Alinn and Wes stayed tucked in low, but Octaten bounded out of the lift, his blaster carbine blazing. They could hear a wail of pain and two meaty thumps, and then nothing. 

Gazing into the hall, Wes’ eyes watered at the smell of burning flesh. The two guards lay dead, the holes through there chestplates indicating hits from a carbine at close range. Octaten’s robes were scorched, showing carbon scored exoskeleton beneath. The Givin nodded to Wes. “Their balances have been negated. My form remains continuous.” 

“Right. Okay, on three,” he indicated the door. “One, two, three!” His shoulder met with surprisingly little resistance as he slammed it into the door. Stumbling into the room, Varth and Binin rushed past him. Doing a quick check of their surroundings, they found the office empty. 

The Warlord’s office more resembled that of an active businessman. A tray in the corner of his expansive desk contained both flimsy documents and datacards. The desk was surprisingly clean and lacking any showy knickknacks or trophies common to egotistical Imperial powermongers. The rest of the office was bedecked in an elegant, yet casual style using soft woods and gold fixtures. On the far wall, a holo comm unit sat powered up and ready to go. 

“Let’s make this fast. Alinn, get what you can out of the Harrsk message cache on the holocomm. Octaten, search his desk. Grab anything relating to super weapons, weapons projects, or the holonet. Sith, just take anything that looks important. I’ll guard the door. If I signal, consider us Omega and get the kriff out with what you have!” He looked at his subordinates, checking that they understood. Unable to read the Givin’s static expression, he waited for a nod. Receiving confirmation, he slipped back into the hall, taking up a post behind a convenient bushy plant that sat in the otherwise sparse hall. 

He flicked on the comm attached to his lapel and spoke softly into it. “Eleven, we’re in. How are things down by you?” 

“Clear for now. The guards are preoccupied with the other’s strafing runs. Several of the outlying building have been destroyed, but the TIEs have arrived. Eleven doubts they can keep this up much longer.” 

“We’ll hurry. Keep your eyes out. If something happens, hold the door open as long as you can and then get out. We’ll find our own way out.” 

“I will continue to hunt the mists, but I will not leave my companions behind.” 

“You will if things get nasty, understood?” 

“Gand understands. Eleven out.” 

Wes frowned as he turned his comm back to standby. He wasn’t sure rather Ooryl’s pronoun shift reflected a loss in honor for agreeing to abandon his squad mates or a loss in honor for lying his chitinous six off. 

A noise echoed softly through the hall. It sounded like a brief scuff ending with a tap of ferrocrete on ferrocrete. He brought his blaster carbine up to his shoulder, sighting at where the right branch of the hall met with the turbolift lobby. Holding his breath, he steadied his aim, targeting the air where the average human male’s head would be if one suddenly appeared around the corner. Everything was silent. 

Seconds passed into minutes, and Wes exhaled slowly and soundlessly, trying to quell the pounding in his ears. There were still no signs of any guards. 

“Not-Sir, Numbers found something you should see,” Alinn’s voiced drifty quietly from the comm.

“Not now,” Wes growled softly. 

“Sir, you need to see this.” 

“Coming,” he grunted. Walking slowly backward, he continued to cover the hall with his blaster. Reaching the door way, he slipped inside. He shut the doors behind him as quietly as possible, then motioned for Octaten to guard the door. 

“Trouble?” Varth asked, maintaining her study of the holocomm. 

“Maybe. What have you got?” 

“Numbers, um, Octaten, found something interesting in the holocache.” 

“I thought I told you to search the cache and him to search the desk.” 

“Yessir, but when I found this, I asked him to verify the encryption.” 

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense; I’m not getting any younger. Not that I’m getting older either,” he grinned. 

Alinn rolled her green eyes and gestured at the screen. “It’s a message to a Roganda Ismaren . It gives the coordinates for something called the _Eye of Palpatine_. The coordinates fall somewhere in the Moonflower Nebulae, so it’s likely that this is the thing that took out the villages on Pzob. The rest of the message reminds Roganda of the terms of some agreement they reached.” 

“So we have what we came for.” Wes felt his skin chill and pucker at the confirmation of the super weapons existence. 

“Not quite,” Alinn said, calling up the details of the message. “According to the cache, this was sent via standard Imperial protocols. Protocols of the highest clearance, but definitely Imperial.” 

“The algorithm is inelegant, with multiple constants within the exponential. It is not equal to the algorithm utilized by the process we must negate,” Octaten said from the door. 

“Also, the time stamp on this indicates the _Eye_ was activated some time before your meeting on Sperin,” Varth indicated. 

“So, what you’re trying to tell me is that we’re after the wrong bad guy?” 

“We’re after the wrong bad guy. And if the Defender knows the _Eye_ is active and still is seeking a weapon other than the _Eye_…” 

“Then there must be another weapon out there. Sithspawn, how many super weapons can one galaxy hold? Next thing you know, the Ewoks will be building a Galaxy Spliter or something!” He thought for a moment. “Alinn, I want you to send a copy of that to High Command now. Get it there however you have to. Kriff, you’re a local, you’ve probably hacked into the Generis relay before, so do it again. They need to be warned.” He turned to the Givin. “If you’ve found any more information on this _Eye_, specs, whatever, scan and upload it to Alinn’s datapad. She can send that too.” 

Wes took the Givin’s place at the door. Turning his comm back on, he tried to reach Ooryl. “Eleven are you there? I need you to relay some info to Lead.” He frowned. “Eleven?” 

It wasn’t like Ooryl to ignore his comm. Glancing around, he wondered if the Warlord had privacy shielding on his office. The fact the comm on his desk was hardwired supported this theory. Carefully, he opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Seeing no danger, he tried his comm again. “Eleven, do you read?” 

“Eleven is here. Qyrgg has been trying to reach you, there’s…” 

Before Ooryl could finish, a red bolt slammed into Janson’s chest. Searing pain wracked his body, numbing all sensation save the burning where the bolt had hit. He vaguely registered falling to the floor, legs overwhelmed. Opening his mouth to scream, salty wetness touched his lips as his chest heaved. More red bolts danced over his head. As they ceased, his vision blurred at the edges, but the eerie image of the skeletal, grey death’s head hovering above him remained sharp. _Sith, and I had great plans for those Ewok shorts, _he thought incoherently_._ Then the darkness claimed Wes Janson. 


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 25 

Qwi felt a little awkward using the manual interface on Wedge’s datapad. She had always programmed her own terminals and datapads to respond to musical tones such as whistles, humming, or notes on a simple flute. She could not remember much of her time at the Maw Instillation, but she would never forget the joy even that simple music brought her. _Music brings me almost as much joy and pleasure as Wedge does._

She smiled at a holo on the wall that depicted him and his old squadron. It felt nice knowing that he was here with her in some form even though he was off somewhere in the galaxy commanding his Fleet. She felt awkward being in his apartment alone like this, but she passed that feeling by knowing she did this to show her love for him. 

Although she wasn’t quiet sure he’d see slicing his datapad as a sign of love. Being fond of complicated puzzles and good with numbers, she had bypassed the password prompt and had entered his files through a back maintenance door. A sweet young man in one of her classes as the local school had showed this door, and after she had shown him what she could do once through the door, he had even offered to let her work for him, helping retrieve information from his very forgetful friends’ datapads. Qwi had declined, knowing that Wedge wouldn’t like her working all of the time. The man had also reminded her Jedi Durron, though she couldn’t figure out why; the only physical similarity between them was that they were both human males. 

Qwi continued to look for the treasure she knew lay buried within the datapad’s depths. Skipping several files that looked like they related to Wedge’s work, she opened a file named ‘Hair.’ Giggling at the thought that Wedge might have a file devoted entirely to maintaining his adorable floofy hair, she read the green words scrolling by. Her cheeks redden and her smile grew in delight as she realized that Wedge had written a poem about her hair. She read it twice more, devoting every line to her vast memory. Fingers idly running through her opalescent white hair, she thought briefly on how best to style it when he came home. Qwi would have to pay it special attention now that she knew Wedge liked it so much. 

Glancing around the area surrounding his desk, she realized with regret that Wedge’s flimsy printer had been ruined during the break-in and he had not yet replaced it. While the idea of someone breaking into Wedge’s apartment frightened her, she had been amused by Wedge’s protective attitude towards her afterwards. He hadn’t even wanted her to know that there had been a problem, and had conned three of his friends into helping him clean it before she stopped by. While she had met the rather cold, aristocratic Alderaanian she knew to be his best friend, she had not yet met his other friends, even though Wedge talked a lot about them. Wedge seemed oddly adamant that she didn’t. _Perhaps I made such a bad impression on the Alderaanian, he’s now embarrassed to introduce me to the others. Maybe Wes Janson is Alderaanian too and that’s why I can’t meet him, even though he’s suppose to be very amusing._

Choosing not to dwell on her fears, she took strength by glancing at Wedge’s holo again before continuing her search. Finally, by doing a search by date, she had found her treasure. It wasn’t much, just a series of simple floor plans done by an inexperienced, childish hand. The space left for walls was impossibly thin, and the external front view showed a massive balcony that no ferrocrete could ever support. However, these were not problems to Qwi, her only problem at the moment was figuring out a way to copy the file without Wedge knowing. After manipulating several timestamps and a couple of other tricks, she held the datacard containing her prize tightly in her grip. 

She had big plans for the tiny card. Using software she had learned at the Maw, and relearned at the school, she wanted to create a small, three-dimensional holomodel of the building. It would include busy Coronet streets outside, and realistic walkthroughs of its interior. She would give it to Wedge for his lifeday so he could display it on his desk aboard his flagship. _And then maybe, one day, it will remind him that he always wanted to be an architect, and then we can go off and have a quiet life away from this awful war._

Backing out of the files, she decided to use the datapad to check her messages. Glancing through the pile, Qwi ran across the one she had marked to remind her to reply to it later. Qwi still wasn’t sure what Wes Janson wanted with Wedge’s night shorts, but she would have to ask Wedge’s permission before she gave them to him. A new message appeared as she read one of the others. This one caught her eye and she opened it eagerly. 

Reading quickly, a smile blossomed over her delicate features. Wedge had returned and wanted her to meet him in Docking Bay 28 on Level 9, not far from here. He had a surprise for her. Not bothering to finish reading the glowing compliments and other professions of love he had included at the bottom, she gathering up her things and raced out the door. 

Forgotten, the datapad lay open and operational, the message signed ‘Wedgie’ on the screen, just as it would be days later when two NRI agents found it. 


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 26

The bacta tank gave the darkened room an eerie, rippling pink glow. While most hospitals would not allow visitors after hours, Silvante Air Base knew the comraderie that existed between pilots in a squadron, and often made exceptions. Iella had gained access by simply saying she was a friend instead of going through the tiresome process of showing her Intel identification chit. She had heard the Rogues were back on planet from Mirax, and when Mirax had told her about Wes Janson, she knew she had to come over and check on her friends. _Poor Wes. _The selfish part of her mind expanded that thought with cloying guilt, _But at least it wasn’t Corran. Or Wedge_. 

Careful not to disturb the 2B-MD droid that sat charging, she approached the small cot where Wes Janson lay. 

“He almost seems peaceful.” Iella’s head jerked around to see the speaker seated in hard plastic chair. The woman’s feet were propped up on the cot next to Janson’s head and her back was leaned up against the warm bacta tank. She had been reading something on a datapad, which she now set on her lap. “I think I like him better when he can’t talk.” 

Iella couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen the woman sitting there. _I must be tired_. “Inyri! You scared me out of a year of my life. At least I’m awake enough now I don’t have to offer to buy you caff,” Iella said to the brown haired pilot. 

“That’s okay, the Colonel left me a stock.” She indicated a large thermos snugged up to the heating element on the bacta tank near the back legs of her chair. 

“Speaking of Tycho, where is he? I expected to see him here,” Iella looked around, surprised that Inyri of all people was the only one keeping watch on Wes. 

“I sent him and Klivian off to bed. They’re both walking wrecks, although Celchu is actually worse off.” She snorted, “Probably because Kilvian has enjoyed baths for worse and can’t figure out what all the fuss is about.” 

Finding a near by chair, Iella pulled it up so she could face both Wes’ inanimate form and Inyri’s hard face. Wes lay peacefully on his cot. The thin blanket had fallen back slightly, revealing the healing scar from a blaster bolt to the chest. A few sensors kept their tireless watch of his vitals, attached to his chest and two freshly shaved patches on his head. _He’s not going to like that when he wakes up._ Not seeing the direness of his condition, she questioned Inyri for details. “So what is all of the fuss about? I know Wes got shot on a mission whose files have been sealed and triple sealed by High Command and that’s about it.” 

“Wes managed to get him shot in the chest on a little excursion on the ground. By the time Octaten, Alinn, and Ooryl had pulled him to safety, his lungs had filled up with blood, and his brain was starving for oxygen.” She put down her feet and glared at the inanimate pilot before her. “We got the hole patched on the _Venture_, but apparently that lack of oxygen hurt his brain badly enough Terrik’s MDs couldn’t cope. I keep telling the doc droids that there isn’t a brain up there to damage, but they won’t believe me. They tell me it’ll be a few more weeks in and out of the bacta, but then he’ll be back to normal. I told that that was impossible and that he wasn’t ever normal. None of the doc droids believed me. I should have threatened them with my blaster.” 

Iella smiled, more out of relief than amusement at Inyri’s attempted humor. “Good to know he’ll be okay, and I’m sure the doc droids don’t mean anything personal by it. They never believe anything but their own sensors.” She studied the pilot’s resting form, finally noticing with surprise what was sitting at Wes’ feet. “It appears we’re not Wes’ only visitors. How did Kettch get here?” 

“The blasted Ewok? Wedge sent a messenger over with him.” She scowled, “For being in command of an entire Fleet, he sure has a lot of time on his hands. He calls practically every hour on the hour to ask if there’s been any change. I don’t know why he cares.” 

Determined not to think about Wedge, Iella picked up the Ewok, smoothing its fake fur. Abruptly a spark of recognition flashed across Iella’s mind, and she smiled slowly. “What I’m wondering is why you care.” 

Inyri’s scowl increased. “Corran, Gavin, and Nrin all went home to their families and no one else wanted to sit here all night, so it’s up to me.” 

“Are you sure there isn’t more to it?” Iella probed. 

Inyri glared at her for a full minute. “Fine. I’ll tell you but you have to promise you’ll keep this a secrete. I mean it. I will hunt you down and kill you slowly if you tell anyone. I know all the tricks CorSec officers use, and I will find you.” 

Struggling to keep her face straight during Inyri’s threats, she nodded solemnly. “I promise I won’t tell a soul.” 

“I kind of care about Wes, just a little,” Inyri ground out. 

“So you like him?” Iella pressed, thinking back to her giddy, boy crazy days at the CorSec Academy. Her marriage shortly after to a man much older than she had killed much of that giddiness, and now it came back almost nostalgically. 

“I like him,” she acknowledged grudgingly. “When he’s not being a Kowakian monkey lizard.” 

As Inyri talked, Iella noticed Wes’ lip twitch almost as if he was smiling in response to Inyri’s confession. “How long did the MDs say he’d be out cold?” 

“Another week at least. Why?” 

“Call me crazy, but I swear he just smiled.” 

Inyri gave Iella a half grin, apparently unconcerned that object of her secret affection may be eavesdropping on their conversation. “Oh, he’s out of it. I just think he’s pranking someone in his demented dreams. Watch.” She stood up and slapped him across the face. Hard. 

Wes Janson didn’t respond. Not even a wince. He just continued sleeping with his small smile. 

“Don’t let the doc droids see you do that. Then they’ll really have it in for you.” 

Inyri grimaced as she sat, tossing her dark tail of hair back over her shoulder. “I’m more worried about Klivian seeing me. He’d be so upset that I destroyed his stupid count and the stupid pool.” 

“I won’t tell old Bugbite a thing,” Iella said with a smile. She stood, moving her chair back to its proper place. “I should probably go wake up Tycho and go over a few things with him. I got the information he wanted on Harrsk, but it’s probably pointless now. I’m still waiting for the holonet slicing information.” 

As Iella made to leave, she frowned and turned back, studying Inyri. “Wait, how did you ruin their pool?” 

“Well, some of them have bets on how many times I’ll slap him, as if they can count that high.” Then she blushed, her cheeks taking on a rosy hue. “But, well…” She suddenly glared at Iella. “You can’t exactly blame a girl for giving into temptation after studying lips like that all day.” She crossed her arms defiantly, daring Iella to comment. 

Iella grinned. “Congratulations.” She started to say more when her comlink beeped. She detached it from her belt, thumbing it on. “Wessiri here.” 

“Agent Wessiri, General Cracken wished to see you in his office. It appears Dr. Xux has been kidnapped and he has a few questions for you.” 

As she put away her comm, Inyri smiled sardonically at her. “Is this where I offer _you_ congratulations?” 


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 27

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Tycho studied the blond woman’s hardened expression. 

“I know,” Iella said softly. “Somebody had to organize this mess. You don’t have to do this either.” Her brown eyes scanned Coruscant’s expansive sky, searching for the X-Wing they knew would be arriving shortly. 

Together, they waited at the landing platform high on top of Silvante Air Base for the arrival of General Antilles. Wedge had left his Fleet in a hurry, pushing his X-Wing’s hyperdrive to its limits to return to Coruscant after hearing of his girlfriend’s abduction. Now Tycho and Iella waited to escort him to an impending meeting with Admiral Ackbar. 

“I’m his best friend. This sort of thing comes with the job.” Tycho plucked at a forelock of his hair. “Although I don’t think I can take much more of this. With Wes’ little misadventure and now Qwi’s kidnapping, my hair is going grey.” 

“It is not going grey. White maybe,” she playfully picked a strand of long white hair off his otherwise meticulous day uniform. 

Tycho blushed. “Looks like Winter has been shedding on the couch again.” 

“Uh huh,” Iella rolled her eyes. “At least it’s not a white feather. Then I would have to shoot you. Or thank you, depending on the circumstances.” 

He watched her closely, noting that a smile remained on her face and she showed no signs of giving him the cold shoulder as she had done when he had previously broached the topic of Qwi Xux. “I take it you’re doing better?” 

She gave him a tight smile. “Better. I’ve given matters some thought. I still would like to blast her to bits, but he’s made his choice. Life goes on.” 

“Yes it does,” Tycho replied sadly. _I wish they could have been together. I wanted them to have what Winter and I have. I wanted to see my friends happy. Instead, I only see them in pain_. Pasting a smile on his face, he tried to make light of the subject. “So, I suppose you’re the number one suspect in this case?” 

“Number two,” she joked. “You’re still number one after those threats you made back at that restaurant.” 

His brow rose. “You heard that?” 

“Intel hears all, Intel knows all, or at least that’s what we’d like everyone to believe.” She glanced at her chrono. “Seriously, we happened to be bugging the Putarrian Ambassador at the table next to you. How long did Wedge say the trip would take?” 

“Eight hours. He should be here soon. And thanks for doing this. I know he’ll feel better knowing that you’re looking into things.” 

Iella looked away, studying the flows of traffic as they streamed between Coruscant’s massive towers. “I’m doing this for the sake of the friendship we once had. He was there for me after Diric died. I should be there for him no matter how much it hurts.” 

Tycho reached out and squeezed her shoulder. Together, they watched as the silhouette of a small craft formed in sky above their heads. Around them, the glowpanels on the pad lit up, directing the small X-Wing to its landing site. 

The X-Wing’s repulsorlifts kicked up dirt and dust, showering the pair that stood off towards the turbolift access. As the hum of the engines died, Wedge swung down from his ship, yelling something up to Gate. Removing his gloves and helmet, he approached Tycho. Iella chose to hang back a ways. 

“Has there been any word?” Wedge queried his friend. Tycho could see heavy lines creasing his friend’s forehead. He looked tired, worn, and worried. 

“Nothing new since you were contacted.” Tycho nodded towards Iella. “Iella and some others at Intel are looking into things. So far, that note on your datapad is their only lead. We’ll find her, I promise.” 

“Sith. She should have known I never use the name ‘Wedgie.’ What about the spaceports? You’ve checked there? Somebody should also check some of the seedier cantinas on Level 9, maybe someone saw something. Get Wes and Hobbie on it.” He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand before pulling a datapad from his flight suit. “Here, I’ve already compiled a list of likely spots where they might find the sort of spacers who hang out around Dock 28.” 

“Wedge…” Tycho started. 

“Just do it, Tycho. I know it’s a long shot, but we’ve got to find her.” 

Iella stepped forward and gently tugged the datapad free from his hand. “I’ll get someone on it right away.” 

“I don’t want just anyone on this. Where’s Wes? He’s good at these sorts of assignments.” He looked around, as if expecting Wes to magically appear at his command. 

Tycho grabbed Wedge by his arms, bracing him and forcing him to look Tycho in the eyes. “Wedge, I know you’re tired and you want to do everything you can to find Qwi, but you need to slow down and think. Wes is still unconscious, probably floating in bacta as we speak. Hobbie’s dead tired with worry. A few minutes or a few hours aren’t going to change things at this point, so slow down.” 

“Right, right, I forgot about Wes.” He deflated a bit, his shoulders slumping, and Tycho suddenly found himself doing his best to help his friend stay up right. 

“Why don’t you come with me down to the Rogue’s quarters on base and get some sleep? I’m sure we can find an extra room and after a few hours rest, we’ll go talk with the Admiral about what we’re going to do about Qwi.” Retaining his grip on one of Wedge’s arms, he guided the tired General towards the lift. Iella remained behind, apparently speaking with Gate. 

The door closed on the lift, sending them further into to the depths of the base. Wedge’s horse voice broke the silence. “I have to find her, Tycho. She’s all I have. I was supposed to be there for her. I was supposed to protect her.” 

Tycho glanced upward, staring beyond the lift’s ceiling. “You still have your friends, Wedge, and together, we’ll find her.” 


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 28

Admiral Ackbar’s office was located on the upper floor of Silvante Air Base. While not as spacious or elegant as his office in the old Imperial Palace or even the one aboard the _Galactic Voyager_, it some how suited the Admiral. The walls and most of the furniture were stark white, but all of the furniture had a curving asymmetry that pleased his Mon Calamari senses. While many humans found the effect disconcerting, Tycho felt oddly at ease in this setting. _Probably because the style reminds me of the natural designs common in Alderaanian architecture_. Due to his years working with the Admiral, he was even getting used to the oppressive humidity. 

“Gentlemen, welcome. Please be seated,” the Admiral wheezed. 

Wedge took one of the indicated chairs, the imposing effect of his rigid posture belayed by his sleep-rumpled uniform. Tycho, however, remained standing a moment longer. “Sir, I want to apologize for my brevity with you during our last meeting. I jumped to conclusions that were unfounded and for that I apologize as well.” 

“That wave has long since washed away, Colonel. I should apologize for not making my intentions clearer. Please, be seated. Now that the sea has calmed we have many things to discuss.” Tycho sat as Wedge leaned forward, studying the Mon Calamari Admiral intently. 

Wedge spoke. “Sir, I wish to make a request.” 

“Oh?” The Admiral waved a flippered hand, gesturing for him to continue. While Tycho knew what Wedge would be requesting, he was surprised to see that the Admiral appeared to be expecting it as well. 

“Sir, I wish to rejoin Rogue Squadron. Rogue Squadron is well suited to the sort of hunt and recover mission that will be required to find Dr. Xux. With its resources at hand, I believe that we can find the Doctor within a few weeks. I know that you are aware of my personal relationship with Qwi, so I believe you understand the utmost importance I’m placing on this mission. For the same reasons, I would also submit myself to the Colonel’s authority and leave Rogue Squadron under his capable command.” 

A bit of joy flared up in Tycho’s chest as Wedge spoke. While Wedge had stuck with him through the nightmare of his trial and their many exploits together, it was always reassuring to hear his former commander’s approval and support. 

The Admiral nodded his domed head. “I understand General. Request denied.” 

“But sir!” Wedge exploded, leaping to his feet. “We have to go after her! Who knows what they will do to her when they find out she has no information to tell them?” 

“General, I realize that Dr. Xux must be recovered, but I must also deny your request. Now sit down.” 

Wedge remained standing, his expression furious. “Admiral, I need to find her. I can’t just sit here and watch Cracken’s agents fumble around looking for the backs of their hands. Rogue Squadron can do the job.” 

“Sit down and I’ll explain.” When Wedge did not obey, the Admiral looked at Tycho, who grabbed hold of Wedge’s belt and pulled him back into his seat. “There. General, Wedge, I understand that you’re upset with Dr. Xux’s disappearance, but you can’t just go charging after her. You are no longer a pilot responsible for eleven other pilots. You are now a Fleet Commander responsible for several thousand people. I can not allow you to abandon your duty to them.” 

At the Admiral’s words, Tycho watched his friend’s shoulders slump. He knew that if Winter had been the one to go missing, he’d be tearing up the galaxy looking for her. _Wedge is trapped under the burden of command; something he swore would never happen and has fought for years_. 

Slowly, Wedge’s head came up and he looked to Tycho. “But Rogue Squadron can still go after her,” he said, hope entering his voice. “You can find her, can’t you Tycho? You and the Rogues?” 

Before Tycho could reply, the Admiral shook his head slowly. “I’m afraid Rogue Squadron has its own duties to attend to. The Defender is still eluding us. With the Fleet now searching for the _Eye of Palpatine_, Rogue Squadron must continue its hunt. General Cracken assured me that he’ll assign his best people to follow Dr. Xux’s trail.” 

“That’s not going to be enough,” Wedge protested. “What about Luke or one of his students?”

“It’ll have to be enough, I’m afraid. I’ve tried to contact Skywalker, but he is currently on a training mission with a couple of his students and is currently unavailable,” Admiral Ackbar replied. “Now, I will give you a day or two to rest, but you must return to your Fleet. I will send word if we hear anything about Dr. Xux. Colonel, I expect that while Major Janson is recuperating, you will continue your search. As Agent Wessiri will now be dividing her time between two cases, I suggest you use this time to do some of your own data sifting. Gentlemen, you are dismissed.” 

To Tycho’s surprise, Wedge nodded his leave, not protesting their dismissal or his orders to remain with the Fleet, instead hurrying from the room. Tycho took his own leave of the Admiral and followed Wedge’s quick steps towards the lift. “You okay?” he queried as they waited for the lift. 

“As well as I can be. I knew I should have never accepted that promotion, but it’s too late now,” he gave Tycho a sad smile as they entered the lift. “I’m just going to have to persuade you to do my dirty work.” 

“Wedge, as much as I’d like to help you, I can’t disobey a direct order,” the Colonel reminded his former superior. 

The dark haired man shook his head. “I don’t want you to. I just want your word that you’ll get Qwi out safe.” 

“You have it. As much as I dislike her,” Tycho said lightly, “I would never leave her to die. But I can’t go after her, so I don’t see the point behind this conversation.” 

“You’ll find her,” Wedge said grimly. “You’ll find her in the same place you’ll find the Defender. I just hope you’re not too late.” 

Tycho stared at Wedge. He couldn’t understand why his friend would assume a connection existed between Qwi and the Defender. “Run that by me again, with the help files enabled this time.” 

Wedge sighed as the doors of the lift doors opened to reveal the bustling hanger of Silvante. The X-Wings of Rogue Squadron sat near the main doors, positioned a little behind a half squad of green striped A-Wings. Next to them sat Wedge’s X-Wing painted in the Rogue color scheme but without the unit patch. Dodging a mechanic carrying a long section of stiff piping, Wedge made his way to his ship, Tycho on his heels. “Okay, I’ve been reading your reports, keeping tabs on the squadron, seeing if you and Plourr have challenged each other to an X-Wing death dual, and generally wishing I was back with you. Anyway, I’ve noticed a few things in your reports.” 

He paused, waiting until a nearby tech finished grinding an engine axel smooth so Tycho could hear him. “First, you send a team out to meet with one of the Defender’s agents. While there, Plourr brings up our little adventure above Mrlsst. Next thing I know, my apartment is in ruins. You discover who ever this Defender is uses the holonet to send messages and highjack ships. Shortly after, Qwi goes missing after receiving a phony message over the holonet. The Defender obviously wants something I have.” 

“The Defender probably wants something Qwi has or might know about. We know he or she is after super weapons and you don’t have one.” 

“Actually, I do,” he said with a dark grin. He lifted himself partway of the yellow ladder that hung on his X-Wing’s fuselage and then climbed up to the cockpit. 

“Right,” Tycho drawled, amused at Wedge’s unusual display of ego. “While your skills in an X-Wing are devastating, I highly doubt the Defender considers the galaxy’s greatest pilot a super weapon.” 

“Neither do I.” His voice was muffled as he leaned over, rummaging through his cockpit. Finding whatever he was searching for, he stood up and half slid, half jumped down the ladder back to the hanger deck. “Which is way I think he wants this.” 

Wedge thrust an old, battered datacard case into his hand. _Wedge must be loosing it. Too many years around Janson have finally done him in. _Tycho read the pealing label. “_Asii the Verpine’s Greatest Hits_? You think the Defender wants to kill us all with Verpine music?” 

With a laugh, Wedge explained. “Zraii gave me the ‘card case. If anybody found it and tried listening to it, they’d just assume I have really bad taste in music.” 

“Which you do.” Tycho nodded with a straight face. 

Glaring, Wedge continued dryly, “I could have probably called it _Falken’s Requiem_. That was Mirax’s suggestion.” 

Ice water ran through Tycho’s veins as that name brought old memories to the foreground of his mind. Rorax Falken had been a brilliant physicist at the University of Mrlsst. Once a student of Nasdra Magrody, he had acted as an adviser on the Death Star project. Upon learning of Alderaan’s destruction and the Death Star’s true purpose, the scientist suffered a massive mental breakdown. As he recovered, he had retreated from society, spending his time on his music and the ultimate weapon to counter the Death Star: a gravatic polarization beam capable of ripping matter apart at the atomic level. That weapon had been only been fired once, destroying the _Conflagration_ by opening a small wormhole over the skies of Mrlsst. 

“I thought it had been destroyed in the wormhole,” Tycho said in a chilled voice. 

“The magnifier was, but the device it’s self is entirely contained on that datacard. Mirax said that one of his students told her Falken some how created the entire device utilizing sub-atomic particles.” He looked at the device in Tycho’s hand grimly. “It doesn’t need the magnifier to create smaller scale wormholes. It can still destroy a Star Destroyer. Or a planet.” 

“So you’re telling me you’ve been flying around with a pocket-sized Death Star in your X-Wing since Mrlsst.” Shock covered Tycho’s face and disbelief filled his voice. 

Wedge shook his head. “I actually gave it to Admiral Ackbar figuring he’d want to bring it before the Council. He returned it to me after Fey’la started making open grabs at power and has never mentioned it since. You can decide for yourself whether it was a good thing it wasn’t in my X-Wing when I crashed on Malrev.” 

“I just can’t believe you kept it.” 

“What was I suppose to do? Give it to Fey’la or some other power hungry politician? I’m just glad I never gave it to Luke like I had planned. Can you imagine what Luke would have done with it during his little sojourn to the Dark Side? Or if Kyp got hold of it?” At the last, pure venom entered his voice. 

“You could have destroyed it,” Tycho responded coldly. _Why would Wedge allow such an atrocity to continue to exist?_ _He’s destroyed Death Stars, what’s so different about a data card?_

“And what would have happened if the Empire brought out something we couldn’t defeat by pluck and nerve, something that would have destroyed us all? As Mirax once put it, ‘should a solider not have a weapon his enemy might?’” 

“Yet we have come across those things. We’ve had a _Galaxy Gun_, a _Sun Crusher_, _World Devastators_, and now this _Eye of Palpatine_, all pointed at us, ready to blow us to oblivion. Yet you never brought up Falken’s device.” Tycho quieted his tirade as a tech passed by the two pilots. 

“Do you think I wanted to unleash a new horror on the galaxy?” Wedge whispered icily. He leaned on his X-Wing, resting on a ladder rung, his head in his hands. “Do you think I wanted to see the escalation as both sides built bigger and bigger weapons to destroy each other? Alderaan aside, you know what we went through to destroy the Death Stars, how many lives we lost. Do you think anyone of us that survived that horror would want to repeat it? Since that day above Mrlsst, I have never been in a situation where I could say I need to use it now, not matter what the repercussions.” He snorted. “I’m not even sure I was thinking straight at Mrlsst.” His brown eyes burned directly into Tycho’s blue. “Which is why what I think doesn’t matter anymore. It’s your problem now.” 

“What? What are you talking about?” Tycho said, confused. His mind reeled at the implications behind the existence of the Falken device as well as the moral quandaries surrounding it. 

“It’s yours now,” Wedge said quietly. “If I had to decide between the datacard and Qwi, I’m not sure I could live with my choice. That decision is best taken out of my hands before the demands are even issued.” Wedge returned his weight heavily to his feet and clapped a hand on Tycho’s shoulder. “Tycho, I’ve trusted you with my life for years, and now I’m trusting you with this.” Wedge’s free hand enclosed on Tycho’s, pressing the datacard harder into Tycho’s grasp. “I know you’ll make the right choice.” 

As Wedge released him, Tycho stared down at his hand, his emotions divided between the horror of the device now in his possession and terror of the decisions that awaited him. 


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 29

_Who would ever think something the size of a datacard could do as much damage as Ackbar’s monstrous_ Galactic Voyager? 

The seemingly harmless datacard lay on Tycho’s caff table, currently falling victim to Tycho’s laser intense stare. A part of him had wanted very much to punch Wedge for foisting this demon off on him, while some corner of his mind had been secretly pleased to be entrusted with so much. He had squashed _that_ thought pretty quickly. 

Winter had called. The Solo children were behaving strangely again. They cried out in pain when there was no apparent source and hummed playful children’s melodies that they shouldn’t have known. All in all, the situation had left the normally collected Winter slightly frazzled, and with Master Skywalker and their parents out of reach, she was forced to deal with it alone. Reluctant to burden her with his own problems, he kept quiet, listening and lending her what strength he could. _When this is over, I’m kidnapping her and taking her far away so we can finally have some time together and relax._ He snorted. _Who am I kidding? If it’s not the Defender and the Solos, it will be something else keeping us apart_. 

The holo comm chirped, breaking his reverie. Halfheartedly, he walked to the comm and switched it on before plunking back down on the sofa. “Celchu here, go ahead.” 

A hazy blue holo sputtered to life above the table. “Iella here. I just got off the comm with my contact. I’m sorry, but she wasn’t able to get a slicer to figure out how the Defender is getting into the holonet. She’s in a rather precarious position and I don’t want her to blow her cover for this. She was able to get some rather interesting information on that ship that Bishi was talking about, though.” 

Tycho smiled wanly at Iella. “I don’t think I’ll be needing that information anymore, but I’ll look it over. Wedge reminded me of a few details I had forgotten and I think I know what’s going on now.” 

Her brows rose. “Care to let me in on the big secret? If Bishi and the Defender think that Falken’s toy is still around, we may have problems.” 

“I wish I could tell you, but it’s need to know.” 

“Right,” Iella said flatly. “You’re just taking revenge for all those time I’ve told you that.” 

“May be,” he replied with a growing grin, but as he caught sight of the datacard on the table, the corners of his mouth rebounded, erasing the smile. “You’re going to have to trust me on this. I’ll explain later, I promise.” 

“I’m going to hold you to that Celchu. You should also know that we just received Qwi’s ransom note. It was sent to a general message dump for President Organa Solo. The kidnapper wants to have a personal meeting with Wedge. So far, we’re not having much luck tracing it. It doesn’t help that the local holonet is on the fritz. According to Ghent, it looks like some inexperience slicer left another mess after trying to hack in.” She frowned. “The local holo providers are screaming because their connections keep cutting out.” 

Remembering the teasing he used to give his father whenever Novacom’s connections went down, Tycho smiled sadly. “I know how that goes. Is there any chance the sloppy hacker and the ransom note are related?” 

“That’s a highly probable, but unfortunately, we haven’t been able to link the two. The outages are caused by a frequency shift in the signal. Similar problems have cropped up at relays across the galaxy for years, so it could just be normal glitches. However, the spreading didn’t occur until our fumbling hacker tried to enter the datastream, so the problem is suspect. Even if our hacker is our kidnapper, we still have to find him. None of this helps us find your Defender, though.” 

“Right. Still, thanks for all of your help Iella. I’ll see if I can’t get a slicer on the Defender problem from my end.” 

Iella nodded. “May the Force be with you Tycho. Wessiri out.” 

Instead of turning off the comm, he flipped it over to one of the news channels. Currently, the Coruscant Live channel was broadcasting one of those sludge news programs detailing the love lives of the famous. Surrendering to mindless observance, he watched as the program detailed the secrete love affair between Luke Skywalker and a young, nubile Twi’lek pilot claiming to be the daughter of Aayla Secura. Just as the sludgecaster was about to reveal the first public photos of their love child, the connection cut out. 

Tycho closed his eyes as the holo faded, memories of a similar disconnection on his 21st birthday washing over him. The Death Star had caused the disruption that day, destroying the planet. Before that tragedy, Tycho’s calls had been disrupted several times. After each time, Tycho teased his father about his inability to run a simple relay. His father had just smiled and accepted the ribbing, commenting that there were worse things than glitches. The frequency of the glitches had increased in those last few months, and Tycho had always wondered if the Empire had been sending secret messages during these times, disrupting the civilian holonet service for their own purposes. 

_Or maybe it wasn’t the Empire_. Abruptly, a conversation on Susevfi came rushing back to him. He leapt to his feet and coded a local signal to Iella. “Iella, I’m really sorry to disturb you, but could you connect me to Trustant Elegos A’kla? I’m not sure how to reach him, especially if parts of the holonet are down.” 

Iella raise a brow as she set down a flimsy report. “Odd request, Colonel. It so happens that the Trustant is currently on Coruscant, negotiating the entry of Susevfi to the New Republic. I’ll put you through on a secure channel.” 

The holo flickered, displaying a slowly rotating crest of the New Republic. This time when the crest faded, Tycho was met with the down covered face of a Caamasi. The pilot inclined his head. “Trustant A’kla. May the winds of time bring you peace in your days.” 

“And may the sun of our friendship ripen the harvest of time. Colonel Celchu, you honor me. What can I do for you?” Even over the fuzzy, blue hued hologram, the light in the Caamasi’s eyes shone. 

Tycho smiled. “Trustant, I’m sorry to disturb your work, but I wondered if I might ask you a few questions.” 

“Ask away, Colonel. I will be happy to share my knowledge if I can.” 

“You mentioned my father used to use Novacom’s resources to send messages between the Caamasi settlements. Do you have any idea how and whether there were any side effects?” 

“If by side effects you mean occasional disruptions, the answer is yes. Your father would adjust the transponder and relays signals with maintenance codes. This would shift the frequency slightly, allowing us to piggyback a separate message on one of the sub-harmonics. When the signal returned to its usual frequency, the message would already be present in the datastream and continue to its destination without revealing its sender. To the outside world, it would appear merely as an error in transmission.” The Caamasi smiled serenely. “Your father invented this method and allowed us to send many messages without ever being discovered.” 

“Thank you, Trustant. For both giving me insight to my father, and for telling me the information I need to know.” 

“Memories can sooth a great many ills, just as they can create them. Rejoice in the memories of you father. He was a great man. If that is all Colonel, I’m afraid I must turn my attentions to sooth a particularly stubborn senator.” 

“Peace be with you, Trustant.” 

“And with you.” 

The holo winked out, leaving Tycho alone with his thoughts. _How many times did I inadvertently ridiculed my father’s efforts on behalf of the Caasmasi? Why did my father never tell me? _Walling these new concerns away, he concentrated on the information Elegos had given him. 

_We know how the Defender is operating, now we must figure who he is and where he’s hiding so we can stop him. _Reaching for his comlink, he dialed the Rogues’ general frequency. 


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 30

“You know, this would be easier if you let me have a little sleep,” Hobbie groaned. “We’ve been at this for hours. Your slave driving habits are worse than Wedge’s.” 

“Good, then I know I’m getting more work out of you than he does,” Tycho commented as he studied the holographic map in front of them. “Besides, you’ve been sleeping the last few days.” Pressing a button, he queued up a graphical overlay that allowed him to see which sectors had recent holonet outages. 

“There. Zoom up on that sector,” Hobbie said, pointing to a heavily concentrated area of red. As Tycho complied, Hobbie continued his plea. “I haven’t been sleeping; I’ve been sitting with Wes. He’s the one that’s been sleeping since we got back from Spuma.” 

“Correction, he’s been unconscious since we got back. Inyri has been sitting with him, and I know she’d never allow you to spend that much time in the same room with her, therefore you must have been sleeping.” He studied the map. _Hobbie is right; this sector had seen the most outages by far_. “Do we have a location for the relays and the transmitter for this sector?” 

“Yes, bringing them up now.” Blue lines and dots appeared showing the holonet relay network. 

“There. That’s the transmitter we’re looking for.” Tycho indicated a node deeply entrenched in red. A dozen lines radiated outward, piercing other areas of red. 

Hobbie glanced down at the terminal screen. “The transmitter belongs to Kinar Holonet Systems and is located on Alludru, not too far from Carida.” 

Tycho blinked in surprise. “Alludru was one of Alderaan’s colony worlds. I think that Kinar Systems is the company that bought Novacom after Alderaan died.” 

“Wouldn’t you know for certain? I mean Novacom was yours,” Hobbie said, slightly confused. 

Celchu shook his head. “I got the stock after my father died.” He snorted. “It’s amazing how well a planet’s economy can survive after the planet’s demise. The shares would have given me control over what remained of the company, but I wasn’t in the mood to deal with it at the time. I sold my stocks and jumped ship to join Rebellion.” 

“Do you remember who you sold them to? It would be nice to know if we’ve got the right place.” Hobbie dropped heavily into his chair and leaned back, studying the holographic display. 

“Oh, we’ve got the right place. Even with glitches, no transmitter would cause outages like that.” He ran a hand through his blonde hair, head bent, thinking. “I sold my shares to Tedmund Kinar, one of my father’s board members. He had been off planet at the time, taking care of business of some sort, and expressed interest in keeping the company alive even after the planet’s death.” 

Hobbie cocked a wry smile. “So, nice old guy instead of psychopathic killer?” 

Nodding, Tycho continued to finger his hair thoughtfully. “It could always be one of his employees.” 

Groaning, Hobbie covered his face with his arm, draping himself spinelessly over his chair. “So we still know nothing. We’re never going to be able to figure out who the Defender is.” 

“We do know some things, like where the Defender is. In order have access to the maintenance codes he must work for Kinar Systems. And if he wants to utilize them, he must be stationed at the transmitter. Now we just need to lure him or her out.”

“And how do we do that?” 

“Bait,” Tycho replied grimly. He sat down, pulling out a piece of flimsy and a stylus, and began to sketch out a plan. “From what I remember, Alludru is a shepherd moon around a ringed planet. Beautiful place. It sits in the middle of a large ring of nice, big ice chunks. We can easily hide a squadron of X-Wings within those rings.” He drew several marks, indicating the likely positioning of the squadron. 

“Using the same method that the Defender has been using for his messages, we’ll send him a note indicating that I’m a former Imperial officer with access to a device he might be interested in. I should be able to pass for an Imperial well enough,” Tycho said with a slight grin. Hobbie just shook his head, not looking happy. 

“Then, I’ll take an unmarked shuttle to the surface. I can meet with him and suggest terms of a deal. Once he reveals himself, I can slip back out, saying I need to go and collect the weapon. We’ll finally know the identity of the Defender, so we’ll be able to track him and send in a task force to nail him.” Celchu pointed to the positions of the X-Wings. “If he causes trouble while I’m there, the Rogues can swoop in and provide me with back up.” 

_While sound, this plan leaves a lot of variables uncounted for, and those variables might just get me killed. Unfortunately, it’s the best I can do with limited time and resources. _

His second in command obviously wasn’t thrilled with the plan either. Hobbie gazed mournfully at the flimsy. “What if the Defender decides to cause lots of trouble? Those rings can hide a fleet as easily as it can hide a few X-Wings. We’d be splatter all over the system.” 

Tycho frowned and considered, but shook his head. “This is a simple rendezvous. If there’s more trouble than we can handle, we’ll bug out.” 

Looking skeptically at Tycho, Hobbie spoke, “So you’re just going to pop down there, say ‘Hello’ and take his pictures? And then slip back out and nail him later?” 

“That’s that plan,” Tycho said firmly. “We don’t have time for anything fancy. Simple will have to do.” 

“You know,” Hobbie said thoughtfully, “I always thought it was Wedge you were trying to imitate, but think I’ve got the wrong Rogue CO.” He glared at the flimsy. “Only Luke would have thrown together something this simple and this stupid and would expect it to actually work.” 

“His plans usually worked,” Tycho reminded Hobbie. His thought drifted, fondly remembering the crazy stunts the squadron had pulled all those years ago before Endor. Though the memories were soured by the knowledge that many of his friends had died during those missions. 

“But you’re forgetting he had the Force,” Hobbie said, frown still firmly entrenched on his ever mournful face. 

Once again, he could feel the pressure of command closing in, but this time he was determined not to give in. Shoving his nagging concerns away, Tycho waved his hand in dismissal and forced a grin. “Minor detail,” he replied, attempting to lighten the gravity of the conversation.

“Seriously, Tycho. You’re going to need someone down there with you. We can assign a flight to accompany you.” 

The Colonel shook his head. “No. If there are any signs it’s more than just me, this guy will never come out of hiding.” _And that way if anyone gets killed due to this insane plan, it will likely be me and no one else_. 

“Well, what if you have a driver?” Hobbie asked thoughtfully. “I can pass for an Imperial too, you know.” 

Tycho considered Hobbie suggestion. _It would be good to have backup on the surface._ _And Hobbie must be really worried to volunteer for a position he knows will probably end with him in a bacta tank_. “Okay, Hobbie, you can come with.” 

“Joy,” Hobbie said dryly, crossing his arms. “At least I won’t have to play Leader this way.” 

“True,” Tycho said, flipping off the holo projector. Considering carefully, he voiced his recent idea to Hobbie. “I think we’ll let Gavin have a shot this time.” 

“Gavin?” Hobbie raised a brow. “Not Corran?” 

Mentally comparing the new Corran to the old, Tycho shook his head. “No, Corran might decide to leave the squadron one of these days at the beckoning of the Force. Gavin, however, I think is going to be here a while, maybe even longer than we will be. He could use the practice.” 

“We could always wait for Wes,” Hobbie offered almost hopefully. “He should be awake soon.” 

_I swear those two have some sort of contest to see who can foist the most responsibilities on the other_, Tycho thought with affectionate frustration. “No, it would be too late. Wedge has reason to believe the Defender is also Qwi’s kidnapper. We go now. For Wedge’s sake.” 


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 31

The main launching bay at Silvante Base hummed with activity. Hobbie had to carefully pick his way towards where the Rogues’ X-Wings sat, else be run over by various techs and pilots scurrying about on their duties. A weathered Imperial Lambda Shuttle sat close to the X-Wings, ready for its new pilot and passenger. Hobbie and Tycho would soon fly out, performing a jump towards Imperial Space before doubling back to Alludru. The Rogues would follow shortly thereafter, arriving at their positions in the ring system in time to watch the Lambda’s arrival. Despite the fact that they would not be departing for several more hours, much of the squadron had already gathered in the hanger to see their superiors off. _With a few notable exceptions_. 

“Looks like I’m not the only one offended by this stupid uniform,” Hobbie muttered to Tycho as he approached, “even part of the squadron ran away in disgust.” He tugged at his collar, trying to get the stiff band to refrain from cutting at his throat when he swallowed. 

Tycho didn’t bother to look up from his datapad, where he was drafting a few minor orders before their departure. “Corran called to wish us the best. His took a little too long to say goodbye to Mirax and is now stuck in traffic. Gavin is off running a few final checks before we leave and Nrin is off bothering our Chief Tech. I just hope she had time to check out the Lambda between kisses.” 

A Twi’lek female tech in grease stained uniform walked up and slapped Tycho on the shoulder. “Just because you didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Winter doesn’t mean you get to begrudge the rest of us our chance. And the Lambda is running as smooth as an oiled lekku.” 

Tycho smiled at her. “Thanks Koyi, and enjoy your time with Nrin.” 

Just then, a Klantoonian tech approached the group. “Chief, we’re having a problem with Rogue Two.” 

Koyi’s lekku twitched. “I though you got that stabilizer locked down.” 

“It’s not the ship,” he gestured towards the rear of the hanger with a flippered hand, “it’s the pilot. She just through Dryvin twenty feet for fouling her fuel line.” 

Rolling her eyes, she turned to Tycho with her hands on her hips. “I ought to sabotage your ship for bringing Plourr back to the squadron. Come on Ralluff, let’s go cool her down and fix that fuel line.” The two techs hurried off. 

_Ahh, Plourr. The bane of techs everywhere. Maybe I should start threatening to beat up the techs; maybe then my X-Wing will get repaired faster. Or maybe they’d just fix my X-Wing so that my next crash is permanent. _

Hobbie turned and questioned Tycho. “Are you sure Gavin is going to be able to handle the squadron? The techs can’t even handle Plourr.”

“Gavin will be fine. If Elscol were here, I might worry, she doesn’t even listen to Wedge, but Plourr is a smart woman and knows to follow orders. I’m almost done here, why don’t you start the checklist.” 

Hobbie agreed and headed towards the shuttle, nodding goodbyes to Inyri, Ooryl, and Varth. He walked up the ramp, his polished boots rhythmically tapping on the deck, and proceeded to settle into the cockpit. Lambdas were older ships of Imperial design, meaning that the cockpit was standard issue and its layout deviated little from ships like TIEs and even the bridge of a Star Destroyer. Falling into a routine long ago drilled into him at the Imperial Academy on Prefsbelt IV, he started the preflight checklist. His mind completely on his task, he didn’t notice the person seated next to him. 

“You look good in that uniform.” 

The voice jolted Hobbie’s head upright, his hat falling from his sandy hair as he spun to look at the pilot seated next to him. “Ms. Pollar, Reme, I didn’t see you there.” 

“I just got here. I thought I’d wish you luck.” She bent over and picked up his hat, brushing the dirt off before setting it on his head. “You look good in that uniform.” Her cheeks reddened. “Not as an Imp, I mean. It’s just I like a guy in a tailored uniform with the cute little hats.” 

Hobbie straightened his hat, his own face warming. “I never much cared for this uniform, too many bad connotations.” He returned to flipping switches, watching the brunette out of the corner of his eye. “Besides, I thought you liked that racing guy, Crazzy or whatever.” 

She smiled, a dimple forming on her right cheek. “It’s Tazy. Dear Tazy is cute all right, and a sithin’ good racer, and while I think I’d die if I missed a race, I don’t think he’s my type.” Before Hobbie could choke out a reply, she continued. “And speakin’ of racin’, I brought you a present.” Reaching into the pocket of her coveralls, she pulled out a small scrap of cloth and placed it in his hand. 

“What’s this?” Hobbie asked in confusion as he fingered the soft, frayed strip. 

“That’s part of my racin’ tunic you spilled your drink all over. Just a bit of the hem, mind you. I can’t exactly give you a bigger part, because then I couldn’t wear the tunic to race swoops anymore, could I?” She looked down at her hands as she fiddled with a fold on the knee of her uniform. 

“Um, thank you.” He could definitely feel his face warming. The shuttle was also feeling rather cramped for a craft that was suppose to be able to carry a small squad of ground troops. 

“I thought you could use a bit of luck. The Major and the others were talkin’ about how you always end up in the tank, and now the Major is the one swimmin’, so I just thought you’re gonna need a little help staying out of the tank yourself,” she said softly, still studying her hands. Then, apparently coming to a decision, she looked up and met his eyes. “Mind, I don’t know if it works for anythin’ but racin’, but I figure it’s worth a try.” She winked at him. 

“Thank you, Reme” he said sincerely, reaching out to squeeze her hand. 

She returned the squeeze and then rose to her feet. “Good luck, Hobbie.” Leaning down, she kissed him lightly on the lips. 

Several full moments passed before he registered her departure. Taking a minute to enjoy the sensations swirling through him and basking in happiness, knowing that there was no way Wes could tease him about this for at least another week, Hobbie was smiling as Tycho boarded. 

“You’re smiling,” Tycho stated, his brow creasing. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, just think about how much Wes is going to complain about missing all of the action” Hobbie said quickly, his smile dying as he set the final two switches and entered the last of the prep codes. “We’re actually in the green on all systems.” 

“Good,” Tycho said, still looking over at his companion. “Begin our departure, Ensign Vilikan. It’s time to find the Defender.” 

|o| >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< |o|

A few hours later, Hobbie programmed in their final jump. Due to the positioning of Alludra, their previous vector had taken them higher out of the galactic plane then normal to allow them to drop down to the planet without dodging their way through the potentially dangerous ring system. As he reached outward to stretch, he allowed his hand to brush across his pocket, discreetly checking that Reme’s tunic scrap was still there. 

“Feels weird to be back in these uniforms, doesn’t it?” Tycho said quietly, gazing out the window at the bright streaks of hyperspace. 

“Yeah. I keep expecting Biggs to poke his head in wearing that smirk of his and yell that the ride isn’t smooth enough.” He took off his hat and rotated it in his hands, touching the insignia on the brim. “He’d like that I’m playing Ensign. He always did take pleasure in bossing me around.” 

“I never knew him that well,” Tycho replied. “I didn’t have many friends at the Academy. Most of the guys there thought that as an Alderaanian, I didn’t have the guts to fight, that I’d run from a real furball and get my wingmates killed. I always tried to show them that I was more than capable of bearing arms proudly, so Instructor Fel ended up bailing me out of a lot of fights.” 

“I remember. Word got around quickly not to hassle you too much. That was one of the reasons the only time I saw you was when you were vaping me in the sims, and even then I didn’t see you for long.” The sandy haired man smiled at the memory. 

Tycho snorted in amusement. “You still don’t see me for long in the sims, you never live long enough.” 

Hobbie’s hand brushed over his pocket again. “Right. You know, Biggs was a good leader. Smart, quick thinking, good with people. He had a manner about him that made people want to follow him. A good leader like Wedge. A good leader like you.” 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Hobbie.” Tycho tried to pull at his hair before realizing that it wasn’t possible with his new Imperial haircut. “It’s hard enough to go out there and fight and kill day after day and harder still to know that a lot is riding on your decisions. It’s nice to know someone thinks I’m doing decently.” 

“You’re doing fine. And we’re here for you if you need us.” An indicator on the navicomp lit, signaling that reversion would soon be occurring. 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Tycho said. Hobbie turned to him, surprised at his suddenly grave tone. “I need you to do me a favor.” Taking off his hat, he unfastened the insignia and held the hat out to Hobbie. “Switch hats with me.” 

“Okay,” Hobbie said, hesitantly taking off his own and removing the insignia. “I thought it would be something a bit more fun, like taking care of Winter after you get yourself killed at this stupid meeting.” 

“You stay away from Winter,” Tycho said with a mock glare before resuming his grave seriousness. “I thought we might need a bargaining chip if things go badly. Sewn in the top of that hat is a datacard. I need you to protect that card with your life.” 

Hobbie eyed the hat cautiously. “Not that my life is worth much, but what’s on the card?” 

“Falken’s little toy from Mrlsst.” 

“Emperor’s black bones!” Hobbie had been there that day the _Conflagration_ had been obliterated over Mrlsst and knew of the device’s power. He could also see the importance of keeping it safe. He touched the hat gingerly, one hand playing over the hat while the other brushed his pocket. “I promise to protect it with my life, Tycho.” 

Hobbie placed the hat on his head, returning to the business of dropping the shuttle out of hyperspace. Black thoughts swirled through his mind. _Just when I thought I had something to live for, I find something else to die for. And people always wonder why I’m such a pessimist._


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 32

For a pilot, traveling through hyperspace could be a cruel exercise. While the ship hurled through the brightly lit corridors of hyperspace, the pilot could not in control of his own ship. The navicomp did all of the work, including dropping the ship out of hyperspace if the pilot slept through the cue or if the ship happened to be in danger of falling into a gravity well. The paths of travel, the speed, the collision avoidance maneuvers were all handled by a small computer who could only do what its programming dictated. If this particular computer was loaded with a program written by an engineer having a bad day, the pilot would have a very, very, very bad day. That possibility and many more ate away at a career pilot wanted nothing more than to control his own path. While most learned to deal with the anxiety by twiddling their thumbs, sleeping, or fiddling with parts of the ship, the feeling always managed to return. Especially when the pilot was already nervous. 

“Toughcatch, make sure you keep the passive sensors on omni after we arrive in system. We don’t want to overlook any threats. And keep track of the other Rogues, let me know if they have problems keeping their stations.” The small chunks of ice and rock that composed the rings around Alludru’s planet traveled in erratic orbit, and would make it difficult for the Rogue to position themselves precisely. It would also make it hard to differentiate a large ice chunk from a small snubfighter. 

The astromech blatted loudly. Text scrolled by on Gavin’s display. 

“Yes, I know told you that before, I’m just double checking.” They still had several minutes left in their jump, and Gavin was already performing second checks. He wanted everything to go perfectly, but years in the cockpit had taught him that wouldn’t be the case. _We’ll be lucky if we all get through this alive, simple reconnaissance mission or no._

Commander Gavin Darklighter had been shocked when Tycho informed him that he would be leading the Rogues on this mission. While Gavin had been with the squadron for close to six years, others like Klivian and Janson had flown as Rogues for many more. Even Plourr had joined the Rogues long before Gavin himself had even considered becoming a Rogue. _Even Corran is more qualified than I am_, he thought glumly. Despite his objections, Tycho had insisted that Gavin was the best choice for the job. If everything went according to plan, the Rogues in hidden in the rings would have a very boring mission, one that Gavin felt he could handle easily. However, if trouble appeared, the Rogues would once again have to do the impossible to save their friends, and that’s what had Gavin worried. 

Sera, his wife, had wished him luck before he had departed Coruscant, having no idea that he would be commanding this mission. He couldn’t figure out how to explain to her that in a span of a single conversation, the squadron had become as important of a responsibility as taking care of her and their two sons. On a normal mission, his life was very much in the hands of others. Now, _he_ would be the one making the choices that may cause the death of himself and the Rogues. While he did not intend to issue orders that would make his wife a widow, the thought that he might have to scared him. 

Toughcatch shrilled, alerting to the impending drop out of hyperspace. Shifting his thought from his family to the mission before him, he pulled the lever. 

|o| >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< |o|

A large chunk of ice floated by Gavin’s port viewport, glittering as it slowly rotated. In the distance, Alludru sat in the middle of an empty band, the space around it devoid of the sparkling, frozen chunks of ice and rock. Sensors indicated no sign of any other craft, save for a few civilian pleasure yachts on course for an outer moon. While the mission was going smoothly, Gavin still couldn’t relax and enjoy the view. And he wasn’t the only Rogue have problems with their surveillance duty. 

“I’m bored. Are we going to get to shoot things or not?” Plourr voice whined over the comm. Her purple and cream X-Wing floated a few meters away, forming a trio with himself and Nrin Vakil. Further away, six other X-Wings hung amidst the iridescent ice field. 

Gavin sighed and flipped his comm to a low powered frequency. “This is Four. Please keep the comm quiet, Two. I don’t want anybody to pick up the signal. Even though Alludru is friendly, the Defender might be listing.” 

“So, I take it that’s a ‘no’ on the shooting things,” she groused. 

Gavin opened his mouth to reprimand her, but another voice broke in. “Two, this is Nine. Cut the kid a break and keep your trap shut.” 

Gavin bristled slightly at Corran’s use of ‘kid’. While the Corellian pilot had been supportive of him over the years, it bothered him that he was still known as the child of the squadron. 

Over the comm, Plourr’s growl came out as a hiss of static. “Corsec, who are you to tell me to be quiet? If it wasn’t for this hunk of ice blocking my shot, I’d vape you.” 

“As I am the highest ranking officer present, you should follow my orders,” Corran replied. 

Now irritated, Gavin reigned in his companions. “Can the chatter,” Gavin barked. “Or you’ll all be peeling tubers.” He flicked off his comm, and leaned back, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Focusing on the sensor board, he searched vainly for any potentially hostile ships. _This is going to be a long mission. _


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 33

The mountains outside of Alludru’s capital city jutted into the sky like jagged razors. Formed by the near constant impacts by meteorites early in the moon’s life, they remained a sharp contrast to the surrounding low land. Their towering height made them a perfect place for a transmitter, just as their dark crevices made them a perfect spot for an ambush. 

“Okay, lining up for final approach,” Hobbie said quietly, gently manipulating the stick. “I don’t like how this landing pad is out on the edge of the cliff. We’ll be vulnerable to anything coming out of that hangar.” 

Once in system, they had sent a message to the Defender as planned, indicating they wished to talk about a unique weapon to which they had access. The Defender had responded with a set of coordinates located in Alludru’s mountains, which turned out to be for one of Kinar Holonet Systems maintenance pads. The pad appeared to be deserted. ‘_Appeared’_ _being the operative word_. 

Tycho shook his head. “There’s nothing we can do about that now. Take us in.” 

The Lambda shuttle settled lightly onto the pad, under Hobbie’s careful hand. Tycho noted that he had set the shuttle down so that the laser canons faced in the inky darkness of the hanger. 

Hobbie sighed. “We’re here. Now’s the part where we get shot at.” 

As if in answer to Hobbie grim prophecy, a red light appeared in the hanger, moving haltingly towards the shuttle. As it exited the hanger’s dark shadows, it resolved to a glowing indicator on a humanoid battle droid. The droid had seen better days; its once shiny metallic torso now was pitted with corrosion and its right leg dragged, its motivator no longer up to the challenge of keep a precise, marching gait. It came to a halt directly before the shuttle, its arms remaining at its sides. _An old B-2 super battle droid. Who would be using a relic like this? Kinar Holonet Systems or the Defender?_

Tycho noticed that Hobbie’s hand had crept to the firing controls for the laser canons. Shaking his head, Tycho indicated for Hobbie to wait. He raised his comlink slowly, trying not to startle the droid, and turned it to a general broadcast frequency. “This is Major Uhlecc. I believe I have an appointment,” Tycho said in his most imperial tone. 

The comlink hissed with static as a monotonic voice blasted through the speaker. “My orders are to escort you to your appointment. Follow me.” The droid turned and began limping back into the hanger, not even waiting for Tycho to debark. 

Turing to Hobbie, he issued a final order. “Stay with the shuttle and keep an eye on our exit vector. Call me if anything changes.” 

He turned to leave, but Hobbie caught his arm and gave it a firm squeeze. “May the Force be with you.” 

Tycho nodded grimly. “And with you.” Jumping off the lowering ramp, he walked briskly after the hobbling droid, doing his best to maintain the straight-backed dignity of an Imperial officer. 

|o| >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< |o|

Tycho followed the droid deep into the mountain station. Although the passed many brightly lit corridors, he had yet to see any other signs of life. Much of the equipment that lined the hallways and the tightly packed rooms was vaguely familiar. Tycho had toured his father’s holonet facilities many times as a boy, his father hoping to teach him the family business. Every here and there, Tycho could recognize a gate relay or an encrypt/decrypt workstation. 

The droid was silent as he led the blond pilot down through the facility. Knowing that the droid could only respond as his programming dictated, he had given up trying to converse with the droid long ago. Tycho settled for listening to the squeaks of the droid and the hum of the facility’s power, straining to hear any deviation that may indicate a trap. 

Eventually, the droid stopped in front of an old-fashioned Orro wood door. The droid spun slowly, adopting a guard position to the left of the doorway. The small plaque on the door read ‘Tedmund Kinar – President, KHS.’ 

_So the droid belongs to KHS, not the Defender. Or does it?_ Frowning, Tycho knocked sharply on the door. 

Despite its old-fashioned appearance, the door glided noiselessly on tiny repulsorlifts into a recess in the wall, revealing a small office. Behind a worn desk of shikco wood, an older man sat in a straight-backed chair. His face was lined with his years, but life still burned in his dark eyes. Despite the time that had past since Tycho had sold his shares of Novacom, Tycho recognized him immediately as Tedmund Kinar, an old associate of his father’s. 

Fighting to keep recognition from his face, he glanced around nonchalantly at the windowless office. At the man’s expecting expression, Tycho said obsequiously, “My apologies for intruding, sir. I believe there has been a mistake; I am here to visit one of your employees concerning a possible contract for KHS to provide service for several former Imperial worlds.” 

A warm grin, similar to one that a grandfather would give to his favorite heir, lit the man’s face. “Please, Major Uhlecc, have a seat. I think you’ll find I am more than capable of negotiating my own contracts. Please, sit,” he exclaimed, rubbing his hands together excitedly as he pulled his own chair closer to the desk. 

Tycho remained standing. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Kinar. I would rather keep my appointment.” 

The older man’s grin fell, revealing the wrinkles lining his face. “Of course you would,” Kinar replied absently, plucking a holo from his desk. After studying it for a moment, he returned it to its place of honor and focused his gaze on Tycho. “We would all like to be able to honor our commitments, but sometimes it is best if they are neglected.” 

“Sir?” 

“Come now, Major Uhlecc. Surely you can understand the usefulness of being somewhere other than where you should be.” His eyes darkened as he stared at the wall behind Tycho. “Surely you can understand the pain.” 

As Kinar lapsed into silence, Tycho took the opportunity to study the room further. Other than the holo on the desk, the room was devoid of any other personal effects. A holoset had been inlaid into the desk, while several monitors lined the back wall, most of them powered down. One, behind Kinar and slightly to the right, displayed four glowing red dots amidst a maze of green lines. 

Relief flooded Tycho. The device was a life signs monitor. But grim fear quickly crept up as Tycho realized that as the only other person apart from himself and Hobbie in the facility, Kinar had to be the Defender. The fourth dot would be Qwi, probably locked in a room somewhere. _It’s Kinar. My father’s old association. It’s hard to believe he’s the psychopath behind this super weapon hunt, but he would know my father’s communication scheme and, more importantly, he’s here. There are no other options._ Now that he knew the Defender’s identity, he had to leave, quickly. _And grab Qwi on the way out, or Wedge will kill me_. 

“Mr. Kinar, I really must be going. Perhaps we can discuss terms another time?” he said politely, trying not to edge towards the door. He studied the display closely, committing as much of the layout as he could to memory. 

Kinar glanced up, awakening from his momentary lapse in attention. “Going so soon? I’m afraid that is not a possibility at this time. You see, Tycho my boy, I need that device of Falken’s and I know you possess it. You’ll just have to stay here until we can come to agreeable terms.” 


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 34

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, sir,” Tycho replied somewhat haughtily. “My name is Kep Uhlecc. I don’t know this Tycho person. Perhaps you are confused.” 

Kinar’s cold dark eyes met his own, and Tycho knew that the older man would not be fooled by such a simple ruse. “No, you are Tycho Celchu, son of Johannes Celchu. You are currently a Colonel with Rogue Squadron. Did you think you could hide in that uniform of murders? An Imperial uniform never rests easy on the shoulders of an Alderaanian.” 

Tycho’s expression lost its guise of confusion and his gaze hardened. “If you know who I am, you know why I’m here. Release Dr. Xux and give up this foolish quest for super weapons. Surely after experiencing the loss of our world you cannot want to release such destruction on another.” 

The older man leaned back in his chair, his wrinkled face twisting in a sarcastic sneer. “Ah yes, the Alderaanian’s plea for peace. ‘We who have lost our world beg that you give up this foolish fight. See our suffering? Throw down your arms so that it can never happen again.’” Kinar lost the mocking look as he leaned forward, staring intently at Tycho. “Tell me Tycho Celchu, what has this plea for peace gotten us? Years ago we laid down our arms, destroyed them, sent them far away, yet our world was still a threat to the Empire. All we did was give up our chance to defend ourselves,” he looked at the holo on his desk, “and we left our loved ones open for attack.” 

“We all lost something that day,” Tycho said quietly, remembering his own family, “but it cannot be found in another mass slaughter. There are other ways.” 

Kinar threw up his hands at Tycho’s words. “Other ways? It is every Alderaanian’s dream to bring Alderaan from its ashes and return it to its former glory, is it not? I have seen your ‘other ways’ applied towards this goal. Organa’s pleas for charity and Horm’s scheming purchases. What have they gotten us? A misbegotten planet that cannot defend itself and a community of apartments that no one wants to live in.” 

Tycho was familiar with the failure of New Alderaan and the Orro Wood Apartments. He and Winter had been asked to support the projects, to come live there and try to rebuild Alderaan’s peaceful society, but they had both refused, arguing their talents were more suited to driving back the Empire. Most refugees had chosen to either contribute but there was still the odd citizen thirsting for vengeance. “So instead of trying to help, you’ve decided to seek revenge.” 

Kinar arched a snowy brow. “Revenge? Foolish boy, even I know that revenge is not the answer. Had I wanted revenge I would have slain Dr. Xux and used the Holonet to sabotage hundreds of Imperial ships.” He shook his head, jowls quivering slightly. “No, I want respect.”

“Respect? The entire galaxy respects Alderaan’s survivors.” As he spoke, Tycho allowed his hand to follow the left seem of his pants upwards. He had pinned a small comlink just under the uniform’s belt. The comlink would allow him to contact the Rogues and alert them that he was in trouble. He just had to distract Kinar for a little bit longer. 

“No, they pity us. Tell me, Tycho my boy, how many times has your ability to fight been doubted? How many times have your friends and your enemies assumed that you would spare a life simply because you’re Alderaanian? Our dead are dismissed as victims to be pitied instead of fighters against a tyrannical Empire,” Kinar’s eyes drifted once more to the holo on the desk. “Did you know Alderaan only began this pacifistic nonsense under Organa’s rule? The people of Alderaan were fighters. We fought in the Clone Wars; we fought to protect our world. But all of this was destroyed by Organa,” he spat the name instead of holding it with reverence as most Alderaanians did. “We must return to our militaristic roots and show that we are willing to fight for what is ours. With a show of strength, we can prove that we will no longer sit passively by and stake a claim in the war against the Empire. We can rebuild the glorious society that Alderaan once was.” 

Tycho drew himself straight, grabbing the comlink from his belt as he pulled his arms behind his back in the proper position of military ease. “As a military man, I can understand the need defend our people, but killing others via a super weapon is not the way.” He flicked the comlink on, enabling Gavin and Hobbie to overhear the conversation. 

Oblivious to Tycho’s maneuver, Kinar continued unfolding his scheme. “Who said I need to kill anyone? The mere threat should be enough to cow those that seek to take advantage of our refugees. You are one of the few that see the importance of taking an active stance against our enemies, just like your father. I wish that we had thousands more men and women like you, for surely so many Alderaanians joining the fight would bring back our lost pride. But our numbers are now dwindled and so instead of a thousand sticks we must wield a single super stick. Give me the device, young Celchu. For our world.” 

“I can’t do that, Mr. Kinar. I do not have the weapon which you seek, merely a replica of the device destroyed over Mrlsst,” Tycho lied, his heart heavy. While he could not condone Kinar’s plan as it would in danger millions of lives, he could understand the desire to take a more active defense against the Empire and others, like the Warlords, who would endanger freedom. Tycho had chosen his path long ago for similar reasons, to protect his home and his family by serving the Empire, and later protecting their memory and defending millions of others by serving the Alliance and the New Republic. _But Falken’s device in Kinar’s hands, in the Defender’s hands, would be dangerous, no matter what his reasons. My oath is to the New Republic, and I must protect it. Kinar would use this against anyone who would stand in the way of his dream. _

The older man’s eyes soften as he picked up the holo on the desk, this time turning it so Tycho could clearly see the happy family it depicted. “My family died with Alderaan. My brother had fought in the Clone Wars, my eldest daughter fought as a member of the Royal Civil Fleet, and my son as he trained for the local police. Upon their deaths, I promised them I would see our world returned to its glory, strong once more.” His soft voice hardened, “I need that weapon, Celchu. It will be the crown jewel on the New Alderaanian Fleet. And I know you have it.” 

“As I said, I have the replica,” Tycho insisted once more, hoping Gavin was currently scrambling the Rogues to provide a convenient distraction for his escape. 

“No, Tycho my boy, I know you have the real device,” he spoke, Kinar called up a set of records on his holographic desk display. “Records from the Mrlsst Academy indicate Antilles left with the device intact. There are no indications that the New Republic has a secrete weapon, so Antilles must have kept it to himself.” Keying a short code into the display, Kinar switched the holo to show Qwi, locked in some sort of small bunkroom. “But with the love of his life in danger, Antilles’ famed sense of honor would demand that he remove himself from the decision whether to surrender weapon to save her. Who better to entrust it to than this Alderaaian sidekick?” 

Tycho glared at the man, knowing his icy blue gaze would enhance the look of severity on his features. “Even if I did have it, I wouldn’t give it to you.” 

“Even to save Dr. Xux’s life? How un-Alderaanian of you,” Kinar said lightly. “Perhaps you have a deep seeded desire for revenge. I assure you, if you join me, your energies will be put towards a much better use than chasing Imperial scientist or pirates. However, if you give me the device, with or without your dedication to my cause, I will allow you to decide the good doctor’s fate.” 

Had Wes or any of the other Rogues been here, Tycho may have joked the offer was tempting, but the circumstances were too serious to allow the impression that his resolve was wavering. “No.” 

Kinar arched his fingers as he sighed. “You are at a crossroads, young Celchu. You have come willing into my lair, though I doubt without backup, but you are here nonetheless. I am sure the weapon is with you; after all, you can’t have it fall into the wrong hands. I can shoot you and take the weapon, incurring the wrath of your friends. Or, you can give it to me willingly, either in exchange for the Doctor or out of a sense of duty to your home, and I will allow you walk away,” he said with deceptive lightness. As an after though, he added dismissively, “Give the fake to Antilles if you must retain your cover of the passive Alderaanian, I doubt he would he would ever discover the deception.” 

Tycho shook his head sadly, disappointed to hear how man with similar goals to his own could stray so far down the wrong path. “No. I too have sworn to defend our world, but not your way. Nothing will come of shows of force except for more violence. Super weapons relegate people to statistics, while conventional combat requires remembering every individual that falls. As long as we remember the deaths, we have our reason not to fight anymore than we have to.” 

But Kinar was no longer listening to him. His eyes shown brightly once more and his smile had returned. He looked Tycho up and down before cheerfully asking, “Your hat, I presume? There is nowhere else in that silly costume to adequately hide the device.” He heaved a great sigh and managed to look regretful. “I suppose I shall have to remove it from your dead body. Pity. I respected your father and I had hoped that you would be persuaded to see reason. Sadly, as with most philosophical debates, we must agree to disagree.” From beneath his desk, he pulled out a blaster pistol. Kinar smiled mournfully. “Good bye, Tycho Celchu.” 


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 35

As the blaster cleared the desk, Tycho dove, throwing his body into the corner of the room where an extruding console would provide a small amount of cover. As he slipped a small vibroblade from his boot, the only weapon available to him, he wondered why Kinar had not yet peppered the corner with blaster bolts. 

A low rumble filled the room, shaking dust from the equipment before relenting. Still no blaster bolts came. Peering cautiously around the corner, Tycho found that Kinar had a new concern. 

The holoset inlaid in the desk glowed with a fuzzy blue image of several X-Wings strafing the side of the mountain. Bright flashes danced around the main hanger and the small landing pad. _I hope Hobbie disobeyed orders and is out of that shuttle. If the Rogues aren’t careful, he’s going to be a sitting nerf_.The room rumbled again and Tycho crouched, ready to take advantage of the distraction. 

Before he could spring at the aging businessman, the holo changed, this time displaying a dark haired woman. She wore a distinctive black thorn vine tattoo around left eye socket. Tycho hesitated, interested to see what this was about. _She’s woman Plourr met on Sperin. Bishi_. 

“Yes, what do you want?” Kinar asked absently, his attention on the blaster in his hand as if he couldn’t quite remember what he had been doing now that he had been interrupted. 

“Well, old man, you owe me. My friends and I are here to collect,” the smuggler spat. 

“Nonsense. I paid you as I promised. We had an agreement,” Kinar replied as if quibbling about a minor term in a sales contract. 

The woman gave him a patronizing look. “I want the device, Kinar, and I know you have it. I’ll gladly blast this moon apart to get it,” Bishi replied coldly. 

“You? Surely you do not think I fear a few smugglers,” Kinar scoffed. 

She did not rise to the bait. “Check your sensors again and call me if you change your mind.” The holo winked out. 

As Kinar adjusted the display, Tycho gauged distance between the man’s hand and the blaster now lying on the desk. With Kinar clearly distracted, he crept from his hiding place, careful to stay out of Kinar’s field of view. As the holo switched to display a Star Destroyer and several smaller ships now orbiting the moon, Tycho snatched the blaster, aiming it steadily at the holonet tycoon. “Hands up. Order your droids to stand down.” 

Before Kinar could obey, the holo flickered to life once more. This time, Tycho was met with a very familiar face. “Tavira, and here I had hoped one of the Warlords would take away your toy.” 

The short, dark haired woman placed her hands on her hips and glared up at Tycho. “Celchu, I should have known. This will be more of a pleasure than I thought. I should be the one paying the Hutts for the privilege of wiping your Alderaanian hide from this galaxy. But instead, I’ll just enjoy collecting their bounty for that super weapon all the more.” 

“Taking orders from Hutts these days now that your Jensaarai guardians have turned on you? How the mighty have fallen, Admiral,” Tycho responded, ire lacing his usually calm voice. Admiral Tavira had been a thorn his side before, including one memorable occasion when he and Winter had spent rather painful time as her prisoners. 

“When I get my hands on you, Celchu…,” she growled. 

“…you’ll make me regret everything, I know,” Tycho finished for her and then flicked off the holo display. Bishi, Tavira, and their Hutt employers were the least of his concerns at the moment. He would have to hope that Gavin could keep the situation under control until he and Hobbie could escape_. And Qwi, can’t forget her_, he reminded himself. 

A sudden motion caught his eye. As he turned his head slightly, he noticed Kinar’s hand shooting out towards the desk. Tycho snapped off a single shot with his blaster, sending a warning shot past the tycoon’s ear. 

Kinar froze, left hand still outstretched. Motioning with his blaster for the man to stand, Tycho stepped towards the desk. Glancing under it, he noticed a button hidden beneath the lip of the drawer. “What did you do, Kinar? Tell me.” 

“I did nothing,” the man bluffed, maintaining his icy stare. 

Frowning, Tycho sighed. It was obvious the formerly voluble man would not reveal his plan this time without prompting. Not wanting to threaten his father’s old associate with death, Tycho picked up the holo from the desk. Inside the transparisteel, five faces smiled outward, their images the only remnants of Kinar’s family. Holding the holo precariously between his thumb and forefinger, he dangled it in front of the blaster. “Tell me, Kinar.” 

“I have issued the call to arms,” the older man whispered, a manic look in his eyes. “Alderaan will defend her colony.” 


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 36

“No, Catch, I think that one looks more like a bantha,” Gavin replied easily, taking his eyes off the sensors to watch a lump of rock and ice float by his forward viewport. “How would you know it looks like a roika? You’ve never even been to Tatooine?” 

As Toughcatch warbled a response, a static voice interrupted. “Who said I need to kill anyone?” 

Gavin froze. The vocal characteristics were that of an older man and he could not match them with anyone he knew. Punching a button on his comm board, he discovered the strange voice was being transmitted along Tycho’s emergency frequency. _Sith. He must be in trouble and unable to talk freely. All right, Gavin. It’s time to live up to that trust everyone keeps putting in you_. 

“Rogues, listen up,” he declared over the Rogue’s general frequency. “Rogue Leader is in trouble, so we’re his distraction. Nine, take Three Flight and strafe the mountain near the transmitter. Don’t hit any landing pads, though, Six won’t be happy if he winds up in because of us. Everyone else, we have their backs.” He would have preferred to leave a flight behind in the rings to continue to monitor the system, but with Wes in bacta and Hobbie on the surface, he didn’t want to leave Inyri and Alinn on station alone. 

Tycho’s voice was now coming over the comm, strong and hard. Satisfied that Tycho continued to live, Gavin turned off the comm, not wanting the distraction. “Toughcatch, let me know if Tycho refers to the Rogue directly, otherwise just record it. One Flight, Seven and Eight, lets follow them in.” 

Corran’s green X-Wing led the charge towards the moon’s surface, cutting it’s way through the thin blue atmosphere. Reme Pollar remained tucked tightly behind him, followed by Octaten and Ooryl. Gavin lead his flight in a slower pace, his sensor array set to actively seek out any signs of ships or infantry that might leap to the Defender’s defense. 

Fireballs bloomed as Corran’s lasers ignited flora and machine alike, surrounding the small mountain base with walls of burning wreckage. As Three Flight banked back for another run, Gavin lead One and Two Flights on a slow arc around the perimeter. 

“How come they get to shoot things? I asked first,” Plourr grumbled, clearly irritated. 

“Because I want to be sure that Lead and Six aren’t among the things getting shot,” Gavin replied coolly. 

“You’re no fun. Tycho could use a good vaping now and again and you’re depriving Hobbie of his bacta bath, shame on you. Besides, you’re trusting CorSec to get this done right? I’d rather trust a Hutt.” 

Gavin attempted to sooth the belligerent pilot. “Nine is a good pilot, irritating at times, but a good pilot and friend. So just hang back and take it easy, I’m sure something you can shoot will show up soon.” 

Suddenly, Toughcatch screamed as the sensors registered a large ship approaching quickly from behind the moon’s planet. It soon was joined by several smaller ships the size of freighters. 

“Looks like you’re right, Four,” Plourr said with glee. “Dibs on the Star Destroyer.” 

|o| >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< |o|

The imposing triangular shape of a Star Destroyed bore down on the tiny moon from above the ecliptic. Perpendicular to the rings, it peppered the carpet of ice with its lasers, the detonations of steam and rock creating a deadly blockade. 

With the arrival of the Star Destroyer, One Flight had climbed back into orbit as Three Flight continued its mission to cover Tycho’s exit. Now Gavin faced the prospect of taking on a Star Destroyer and a flotilla of smugglers with five X-Wings. _Nine, once Three Flight has regrouped_. 

In his oddly quite cockpit, Gavin let out a long breathe. He regretted ever thinking this was going to be boring. He regretted ever agreeing to command the squadron. At the moment, he even regretted being a Rogue. But most of all, he regretted not waiting in line to record a message to his family. Unfortunately, he had no time for regrets as the enemy fleet roared ever closer. Every second he wasted thinking of his wife and kids was one that he could have spent planning a way out of this. 

“Well what do you know, it’s the _Invidious_,” Plourr drawled. “Looks like I get to pay dear Moff Tavira my respects after all.” 

“We’re not in this for revenge, Two,” Gavin chided her absently. He vaguely recalled from a briefing that Tavira had briefly been a Moff on Plourr’s home world. 

“Speak for yourself, she didn’t steal most of your planets wealth and bring the populous to the edge of civil war,” she growled. “Give the order and I’ll turn her into space dust.” 

Gavin sighed. “Alright, here’s the plan.”

“Yes!” Plourr cheered. 

“No, we are not going to attack the _Invidious_. What we are going to do is fly close enough that Tavira is forced to launch her fighters. Considering how many we destroyed at Susevfi, they should be green as grass and easy to handle. It will provide her with a distraction and keep her from bombarding the planet unless she wants to kill her people as well. Once Lead and Six have joined up, we’ll make ourselves a door through their lines.” 

“Four, this is Seven,” Inyri’s voice called out over his comm. “We don’t have to do this. We could slip out on over the moon’s south pole without crossing the Destroyer’s path.” 

Gavin sighed. “Negative, Seven. We need to buy Lead and Six enough time to make it out. We need to attack.” 

“Three here,” said Nrin from the X-Wing outside Gavin’s starboard viewport. “I disagree. Over the many missions I have been honored to participate in, Lead has demonstrated the ability to get out of his own situations just fine. He has escaped Tavira’s clutches, slipped from Isard’s grasp, and raced from the Death Star’s maw. He will be fine on his own.” 

Before Gavin could reply, Alinn’s voice rang out. “Sir! I’m registering three large signals coming from the rings. I thought they were shepherd moons, but they’re moving!” 

Gavin glanced down. Indeed, three new blips had appeared on the X-Wing’s sensor display, each ship registering smaller than a Destroyer but considerably larger than a freighter. _One Star Destroyer, several well-armed freighters, and now it looks like three Dreadnaughts. Against nine X-Wings. Tycho, I’m sorry I failed you. _ He cleared the lump from his throat. “Rogues, we’re now omega! Repeat, we’re now omega! Get out of here! Three Flight regroup!” 

“I’m afraid there’s a problem with that,” Plourr remarked. “Enemy starfighters inbound. Now we have things to shoot.”


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 37

“Three Flight, we need you now! What’s you’re ETA?” Gavin’s voiced barked over the comm, sounding every bit the commanding officer, and nothing like the farmboy that had joined the squadron years ago. Corran shook his head, marveling at the change. 

He keyed his comm. “This is Nine, ETA five minutes.” Whistler blatted in annoyance at this statement. “Yes, I know I underestimated, but if you adjust the fuel mixture, we should be able to make it.”

Ahead he could see the Rogues already engaged in with a swarm of small fighters. These craft were not the usual TIEs; instead, they appeared to be slightly squashed versions of the ubiquitous ship. Calling up their profile, Corran realized the strange ships were old Mark I Vulture droids. _Strange, X-Wings are far more advanced than those ships and we should be able to destroy them easily. Why even bother sending them to fight? _

But the old droid fighter were far less puzzling than the Dreadnaughts, who were currently converging on Tavira’s _Invidious_ in an attack formation rather than a escort formation. “Four, it looks like we’ve got two sides here content to pound away at each other. Why not let them?” 

“The droid fighters are registering us as unfriendlies, Nine. Besides, if they’re picking on us, they’re not strafing the surface. Engage when you’re in range.” 

“Copy, Four.” Corran frowned. Gavin meant well, trying to give Tycho and Hobbie additional time to escape, but he was going to get the rest of the Rogues killed. Despite the Rogues superior flying skills, the shear numbers of the opposing sides would make this a difficult battle. _And that is only if the big ships ignored the small snubfighters, else this could be a disaster_. 

Feeling a wave of peace wash over him, Corran set his brow in determination and reversed his throttle, allowing the three other Rogues to shoot by. 

“Woah! Sir, you’ve got to warn me when you do that,” Reme said, surprised, as she tried to loop back around to join him. 

“Sorry, Ten. Listen, I have a few errands to run so don’t wait for me. Join up with Plourr when you hit the furball, she’s flying a trio with Three and Four and needs a wingmate. Just keep to her wing until we’re out of here. Twelve, the Three Flight is yours,” Corran responded, setting his course back for Alludra. 

“Twelve copies,” Ooryl clicked. “As Three Flight Leader, Twelve orders Horn to stay with his Flight.” 

The Corellian pilot blinked. _Now is not to grow a backbone, or back carapace, or whatever_, he thought, irked. “Sorry old friend, but no can do.” Logically, Corran knew he was breaking the law, something that he hated to do. Returning to Alludra would mean disobeying two direct orders, but he knew in his gut that if he didn’t, Tycho and Hobbie would surely fail. “Lead needs back up on the ground. Nine, out.” He turned off his comlink, circumventing any argument. _Sometimes a Jedi has to follow the Force instead of the rules_. He dove back towards the planet’s surface as fast as his engines and shields would allow. 

|o| >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< |o|

The surface of Alludru was surprising still. No anti-aircraft weaponry rose to great Corran as he descended, nor did their appear to be troops on the streets. Like its long dead mother world, Alludu’s people had forsaken weaponry in favor of peaceful negotiation to end their conflicts. _Unfortunately, negotiation is hard to do with two small fleets in orbit_. 

“Whistler, keep an eye out for a place to land.” As the droid beeped a response, text scrolled by on the small translator screen. Tearing his eyes away from the jutting mountains, he read the astromech’s reply. “I know Mirax to you to keep me out of trouble, but I’m not getting into trouble, I’m getting everyone out of it.” In reply, a yellow diamond appeared on Corran’s heads up display, indicating a small cliff not far from Hobbie’s shuttle. “Thanks, Whistler.” A rubbery raspberry issued from Whistler, reminding Corran of the droid’s displeasure over the situation. 

Easing the X-Wing down on its repulsorlifts, Corran searched through the Force for any signs of guards. When the dust had cleared, he looked with his eyes too, still not quite trusting his talent in the Force. “Whistler, you know what to do. Stay here and protect the ship.” 

The little droid whistled his affirmation mournfully, and as Corran slid out the cockpit, he could just barely hear the characteristic tones of Whistler’s ‘I told you so’ sequence. He spun quickly, wondering if the droid had picked up something he hadn’t, but there was nothing there. “You don’t get to say that until I’m back, running like made to get away from blood thirsty troops,” he hissed. 

Whistler wheedled a reply, but Corran couldn’t make it out. Shrugging, he crept towards the small maintenance door set into the top of the cliff. As expected, the door had been bolted and sealed, preventing anyone from sneaking inside and damaging the holotransmitter. 

Freeing his lightsaber from his utility belt, he ignited the silvery blade. Corran winced as its hum echoed across the desolate mountain. Bringing it around in a clean arc, he sliced through the bolt and shut off the blade, fervently hoping that surprise was still on his side. 

Through the Force, he could make out only one life sign deeper into the mountain. Focusing on it, he stepped into the dark and began picking his way through the facilities pitch-black corridors. 

His flight boots made a regular tap tapping on the warn floor tiles. Electronics buzzed with a constant crackle of energy and illuminated the dark halls with a ghostly glow. As he spread out through the Force, he realized that he heard another sound. Concentrated, he magnified it. As he listened to the metallic taps and whines of motors that occasionally squeaked, ice began to form deep his gut. _Droids_. 

Nearing the end of the corridor, he peered around and then snapped his head back. Four old battle droids stood at attention, their red eyes glowing, their blasters raised. Corran cautiously edged backward, careful to tread silently, not wanting to alert the droids to his presence. He had passed another hall a few meters back that would also lead him towards the presence he felt in the Force, albeit by a longer route. Halfway back down the corridor he stopped. The whining of the motors was becoming louder and this time it came from the other direction. 

Taking a deep breathe, Corran ignited his silvery blade, its characteristic hum deafening to his enhanced hearing. The droids cleared the ends of the hallway, four behind him and four in front of him, their red photosensors glowing sinisterly. Red bolts sizzled towards the pilot-turned-Jedi. 

Bringing his lightsaber up and dropping his body into a combat stance, Corran forgot about the worry he felt for Tycho, and Gavin, and the rest of the Rogues. He let go of his fear that he wouldn’t be able to go home to Mirax. Right now, for Corran Horn there was only heat, light, and the Force. 


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 38

The air hung thickly, choked with dirt and the cloying scent of burning fuel and ferrocrete. Fire danced around the landing pad marking direct strikes by the Rogue’s lasers. Miraculously, or perhaps just a sign of the Rogue’s superior skills, the Lambda shuttle remained untouched. Even so, Hobbie felt glad that he hadn’t stayed with the shuttle. 

When Hobbie had first heard the roar of the Rogue’s engines, he had immediately powered up the craft, expecting Tycho to come barreling out of the hanger bay at any moment. But as minutes ticked by and the deafening thumps of laser cannons came ever closer, Hobbie had elected to take Tycho’s final orders with a grain of salt. Though the hanger presented a much larger target profile, it had been dug deep into the mountain and its ancient rock walls would provide superior protection compared to the Lambda’s thin metal walls and shield generators. Overall, the hanger would have been an excellent place to hide and await Tycho, save for one crucial fact: Hobbie wasn’t alone in seeking shelter here. 

Shortly after finding cover behind several large crates presumably filled with spare parts, a series of clattering had met his ears. Peering cautiously around the crates, he saw a small platoon of rusty, lagging battle droids enter the hanger and take up post. Half of the aging droids faced the only passage leading deeper into the base. The others faced the shuttle, its engines still prepped and humming. 

Hobbie had waited patiently; hoping the Rogue’s strafing runs would score a lucky hit that would destroy the droids without landing him in a bacta tank for a considerable length of time. But the hanger had been silent and the skies clear for a while now, leaving Hobbie with his wish unfulfilled. 

_Looks like it’s up to me now_, he thought, grimacing. Patting his pocket, he checked that Reme’s good luck charm was still there. _Although, whatever luck was in it probably was used up saving the shuttle. Well, as Biggs used to say, there is no luck, only skill_. 

Pulling our his service blaster, identical to the one his Instructor Fel had made him practice with endlessly all those years ago, he sighted one of the two chains affixing some sort of storage rack to the high ceiling. The rack consisted of a metal frame jutting from the far wall holding a vast array of duracrete pipes commonly used to protect buried communication cables. Although not an expert shot like Wes, Hobbie felt confident he could sever the two chains, causing the platform to drop its load on the unsuspecting droids. He wasn’t quite sure if this would accomplish anything more than annoying the droids, but it wouldn’t do to have Tycho burst out of the corridor only to meet a fiery death. Any droid he managed to damage would be one less to chase after them later. 

Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly, steadying his hands as he pulled the trigger. A burst of red light streaked across the hanger bay and severed the chain with a comforting chink. More disconcerting was the whiny of motors as the droids turned to face their attacker, making sharp metal clinks as their wrist mounted blasters unfolded. Ignoring them, Hobbie concentrated and sent a second blaster bolt soaring through the air, hitting its target. With the support chains of the platform now gone, Hobbie ducked behind his cover and waited for the satisfying crunch of broken droids. 

The sound never came. Instead, waves of blaster bolts assaulted Hobbie’s position, striking the rock walls, sending shards of rock tearing across Hobbie’s flesh. The acrid smell of melting plastisteel made his eyes water as bolts slammed into the crates that now shielded him. The crates must have held dense metal parts, probably engine stators, as none of the bolts burned through. He couldn’t hide here forever. The droids would be upon him soon enough. _Sith. Where are Wes and his sharp shooting when you need him? Looks like I’m going to get that bath after all if I don’t do something in a hurry. _

Twisting his body so that he could aim between the crates without presenting a target, he snapped off a few random shots into the crowd of droids. While the sound of a few hunks of metal striking the floor assured him that his shots had been true, the droids continued their barrage unbothered by their fallen comrades. 

Suddenly, a large squeak and groan of bending metal tore through the hanger as the rack finally gave way, spilling its load pipes onto the floor. A few unlucky droids hissed and crackled as they were smashed to pieces, but many more tripped and fell to the ground only to be trampled by more pipes and fellow droids. The hail of blaster bolts lessened. Droids lay scattered on the ground, some firing up into the ceiling, unable to right themselves yet determined to carry out their orders to kill the intruder. Hobbie peered over the crates and shot a few more droids. He felt quite pleased with the carnage he had wreaked. _No wonder Wes likes Ewoks, their methods work rather well. _

His happiness died as the sound of more droids approached. Fingering Reme’s good luck charm with one hand and checking the power level on his blaster with the other, he wished that he had a dozen of the furry little creatures with him. _Or even just Wes. Or Reme_. Sighing, he turned and sighted his blaster at the corridor, wondering if throwing plastisteel boxes would be as effective as throwing rocks once his blaster gave out. 


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 39

The silver blade hissed and crackled as Corran snapped his lightsaber into an upper guard, neatly deflecting a red bolt and sending it hurtling towards the droid that had fired it. Entrenched deeply in the Force, he could see the bolt strike its target even as he turned around, dragging his shining blade in shoulder to hip slash that cleaved a droid in two. Resistance tugged at the blade as it sliced, the slight delay allowing a blaster bolt to puncture Corran’s defense and strike him in the leg. Shunting aside the pain, he absorbed the energy, pouring it into a leap that sent him soaring over the forward line of droids. 

With all five remaining droids on the same side of the corridor, his rear arc was no longer vulnerable. He stood in the same defensive position Kam had taught him not long ago while facing floating practice targets. However, instead of stingers, the battle droids sent a fiery red hail of deadly energy. Fortunately, Corran’s saber was faster. Arc, third ring stop. Two deflected bolts impacted the torso of one of the droids, sending up a shower of sparks as the droid fell to the floor. Third ring sweep, second ring slash. A second droid fell to the ground, its torso separated from its legs. Step, step, sweep, first ring thrust. The final two droids plummeted to the ground, one sliced through the knees, the other a hole burned through its chest plate. 

Switching the blade off, Corran stood over the pile of scrapped droids, sweat shining on his brow. Regretfully, he released the warm embrace of the Force and stepped back into the world around him. Although he felt calm and cool instead of exhausted, his muscles ached from use. Glancing down, he found that while he was not bleeding or hurt, his old CorSec flight suit would be in need of some serious patching before it would be vacuum rated again. 

Reaching for the Force once more, this time only allowing a trickle to flow, he found once more the spark of life, now not too far away. Corran broke into a jog, no longer caring about the noise of his clattering boots_. If they can’t hear a lightsaber echoing down these halls, they’re not going to hear a couple of footsteps_. As he neared the life signature, the hall became cluttered with old pieces of technology, some still with glowing displays, others buried in a thick layer of dust. Along the wall, an old battered durasteel door stood flanked by two droids. _Droyk. How many scrap yards did this guy raid? Throw in a few funny looking bad guys and a Sith or two and you could have your own Separatist movement! _

Holding his inactive lightsaber, he walked slowly up to the droid closest to him. “Excuse me, but have you seen the power coupling for this thing?” he asked, holding out the lightsaber for inspection. 

“Does not compute,” the droid replied in its electronic monotone. 

“Are you sure? Here, look closer.” As he shoved the hilt towards the droid’s small head, he thumbed the activation switch sending the blade searing through the metal skull. Even as the droid arced to the floor, Corran pivoted on his right foot, bringing the lightsaber in a graceful sweep that gorged the droid’s torso. 

Keeping the blade active, his sliced through the door’s electronic lock. Slowly, on unsteady repulsorlifts, the door wheezed open revealing a small room with a cot and a computer terminal. On the cot sat a blue-skinned woman looking wide-eyed at the man with the lightsaber standing in the doorway. 

“Doctor Xux,” Corran stated with surprise. He had been hoping to find Tycho. “Come with me, I’ll get you out of here.” 

The feather haired woman continued to sit on the cot. “Who are you?” she asked warily, eyeing the lightsaber. 

“You may not remember, but you met me at the Jedi Academy when you visited with Wedge. I’m Keiran. Wedge sent me to find you.” He offered her his hand, with a slight smile. _I did tell her the truth, from a certain point of view_. 

After she took his hand, he allowed his smile to drop. “Come on, we need to get out of here.” He began striding down the corridor, heading in the general direction of the landing pad and the Lambda shuttle. _Hopefully, Hobbie and Tycho haven’t left, else I’m in for one uncomfortable X-Wing ride_. 

Qwi hurried after him, her small feet barely making noise as they hurried down the hall. Abruptly, Corran stopped, holding out a hand to keep Qwi back. 

“What is it?” she asked curiously, cocking her head in an almost birdlike manner. 

“Droids,” Corran whispered. He slipped his blaster from his holster. “Here, take this.”

Her cyan eyes went wide. “But…”

Holding a finger to his lips, he led the ways slowly down the hall, lightsaber in hand. 


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 40

Tycho crouched low behind a batter piece of equipment that had once served as a holoencrypter. Two B-1 battle droids walked down the hall, their aging motivators squeaking. They comprised the second patrol he had encountered since leaving Kinar bound and gagged in his office. Tycho hadn’t wanted to kill the man, especially as an unarmed prisoner. While Tedmund Kinar’s tactics and methods sat poorly in Tycho’s gut, he could understand the old man’s reasoning. He, like Tycho, simply wanted to defend what was left of Alderaan; its memories, its culture, its people. Unfortunately, Kinar’s plan to cow Alderaan’s enemies with the might of a super weapon might leave thousands or millions dead. Kinar had to be dealt with, and Tycho wasn’t sure how. For now, the holonet tycoon sat bound in his office, the door locked, the holoset disabled. _Unfortunately, Kinar is no longer my primary_ _concern_. 

The mountain complex had quit shaking a while ago, the Rogues having discontinued their strafing runs. What worried Tycho was that the Rogues had most likely called off their runs due to a larger threat: Tavira. Now Tycho had to warn them that there may be a new threat, Kinar’s defenses. _I need to make sure the Rogues are safe, and then we can come back for Kinar with reinforcements. That’s if Tavira doesn’t get to him first_. After trying to contact Gavin, Corran, and Hobbie on his comm and getting no response, he started his way back to the shuttle. 

Half way back to the shuttle, Tycho had realized that he had an additional problem: he had to find Qwi. Knowing that he would do the Rogues no good by taking the extra time to insist on finding Qwi, he would have to find her first so they could make a quick getaway. Following the maps he had memorized in Kinar’s office, he traced his way towards Qwi’s cell. Unfortunately, the two droids were hindering his progress. 

Collecting his breath, Tycho leaned around the dusty piece of equipment and fired at the droid on the right. The droid’s armor sparked as the bolt collided and circuitry sizzled. In unison, the two droids raised their arms and returned fire. 

Tycho snapped off one more shot as he ducked back behind his cover and listened as one of the droids fell to the ground with a satisfying thump. Red bolts continued to hammer against the wall and the electronics, the stench of burning circuitry filling the air. Just as he was about to return fire, a distinctive snap-hiss echoed down the corridor and abruptly the rain of blaster bolts ceased. 

Peering around the encrypted, Tycho blinked. Standing with silvery lightsaber held at the ready, Corran looked like a hero of old, save for his rather tattered flight suit. “Corran! What are you doing dirtside?” he asked as he got to his feet. Behind the short pilot stood Qwi Xux, her eyes wide and her hands clutching a blaster like a child would clutch a stuffed bantha. 

“Thought you could use some reinforcements,” Corran said absently, gazing further down the hall. 

“How’s the situation in orbit?” 

“Bad,” Corran grimaced, “Tavira’s _Invidious_ is occupied with three old Dreadnaughts, but the Dreads released a couple of squadrons of Vulture droids that have the Rogues pegged as targets. Out of curiosity, did you find the Defender? Maybe we can get him to call off his fighting scrap yard.” 

Tycho sighed. “I found him but he refuses to cooperate. He’s tied up in his office. Let’s collect Hobbie and get out of here, we can call for reinforcements after everyone gets clear.” 

Corran nodded and tightened his grip on his lightsaber. “I’ll take point. We shouldn’t be far from the hanger.” 

“I’ll stay back and guard the rear,” Tycho said as he checked the readout on his blaster. The charge was still good. “Qwi, stay between us and stay alert.” 

Qwi nodded, her cyan eyes still wide. As Corran slowly led the way, Qwi followed several paces behind, giving him enough room to fight if he had to. Tycho followed Qwi at the same distance, constantly looking and listening for any droid patrol that might try to sneak up behind them. 

The small party progressed slowly, with Corran stopping occasionally to listen for patrols. As they turned a corner, Corran held out a hand, motioning for Qwi and Tycho to wait. Corran disappeared down adjoining hall, his lightsaber singing as blaster bolts poured from the far end. A few moments later, there was only silence. 

Tycho frowned. _Corran knows enough to tell us when it’s clear. _But as they waited in the silence, worry began to gnaw at Tycho. Motioning for Qwi to stay, Tycho crept forward, his blaster at the ready. 

Clearing the corner, he saw only a pile of droids. Pieces and chunks of droid, torn off by blaster fire and lightsaber alike, carpeted the hallway. There was no green clad body, no puddle of blood. There was no sign, good or bad, of Corran. 

_He must have gone further down the hall to deal with another threat_. As he turned back to collect Qwi so they could proceed, Tycho felt a searing pain tear through his side. 


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 41

Hunching over, Tycho clutched his side, instinctively trying to staunch the flow of blood. His head reeled with pain and his stomach churned as his nose filled with the stench of burning flesh. Through tearing eyes, he could see a human figure approach. _Kinar_. 

“The device, Tycho. I must have the device.” The aging holonet tycoon held a blaster in his trembling hand, aimed at Tycho. “For Alderaan. Surely, you must understand. The device, give it to me,” he whispered. 

Tycho straightened the best he could, still clutching his side with one hand and his blaster in the other. “Kinar, listen to me. I can’t allow you to have the device. You can still defend Alderaan, but this is not the way. Put down the blaster.” 

“No, I will see Alderaan strong once more. I will let no one stand in my way, not even you, my boy.” Kinar shuffled a few steps forward and jabbing his blaster in the air to accentuate his point. “Give it to me now, or die.” 

“I’m sorry,” Tycho said as he jerked his own blaster in line and snapped off a shot. The bolt burned into the older man’s chest before he could even react by firing a shot of his own. He sank to the floor

Walking unsteadily to Kinar’s side, Tycho kicked the blaster out of his hand before gingerly kneeling to check for a pulse. There was none. 

Thoughts and emotions roiled through Tycho’s head. _Should I have shot him? He was just trying to do what was right. _But like a knife, Tycho felt certainty cut through the wash of doubt. _He would have killed hundreds to protect a few_. 

More footsteps echoed down the hall, causing Tycho to level his blaster into position. Qwi cleared the corner, still clutching her blaster and looking quiet frightened. When she saw Kinar’s body she gave a little squeak and her hand fled to her mouth. 

“Are you alright?” Tycho asked her, relieved that Kinar hadn’t killed her and confused as to why she hadn’t alerted him to Kinar’s presence. 

“Yes. But that man, he’s looks dead,” she replied in a small voice.

Tycho sighed and winced as he stood. “I had no choice. I either had to kill him or be killed myself.” 

Qwi looked down at the blaster she still cradled. “I couldn’t shoot him. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.” Her voice was stronger now, determined. 

Although feeling irked at the woman who had once contributed to the deaths of millions and who was now afraid of using a blaster, he forced himself to give her a solemn nod. _Pacifism I can understand, even if I don’t agree with it. Especially when I get hurt because of it_. “Just be aware that by choosing not to fight, you and your loved ones might get hurt.” He gave her a stern look. 

Her eyes widened as she realized that Tycho was injured. “Oh. I’m sorry. Here, you need a compress for that.” The fabric of her standard jumpsuit tore easily, and she quickly shredded one of the long sleeves into compress. Tycho clenched his teeth with a hiss of pain as she pressed it against his side and strapping it on with a longer strip. Finished with her work she stepped back, looking quite pleased with her handy work.

More footsteps echoed down the corridor, this time from the other direction. Tycho raised his blaster but immediately lowered it when he recognized a rather sour looking Corran. “What happened?” Tycho asked, resigning himself to dealing with yet another problem. 

Corran’s eyebrow rose as he survey Tycho and the body on the floor. “I could ask you the same thing, but I guess I’ll go first.” The inquisitive look slid of his face and was replaced with disgust. I destroyed a few more droids, but when I got to the hanger I found a bigger problem. Hobbie.” 

Tycho’s eyes shut as sadness washed over him, anticipating Corran’s bad news. “Hobbie’s gone?” 

“No,” Corran said dryly. “He threw a plastisteel crate at me. Lightsaber went right through it and the pieces smacked me right in the chest. Those things hurt. By the time I got to me feet another one smacked me on the head. When he finally realized he I was, he apologized but it still hurt.” 

Tycho snorted. “The heroic Jedi done in by thrown crates? Wes is going to be a nightmare when he finds out.” 

“Hence the problem. You set here?” Corran questioned, eyeing the body on the ground. 

“Set,” Tycho stated grimly. “Let’s move out.” 

|o| >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< |o|

The trio moved quickly to the hanger where they spied Hobbie and the shuttle already preparing for takeoff. A green X-Wing now sat on the pad next to the Lambda, its cockpit canopy opened in greeting. 

“That’s my ride,” Corran replied with a grin. “See you in the skies.” He jogged to the X-Wing, yelling up something to Whistler as he went, probably thanks for relocating the craft. 

Qwi and Tycho ran up the shuttle’s ramp. It hissed shut behind them and the engines hummed to full. As Qwi strapped in, Tycho made his way forward to the cabin where a grim-faced Hobbie sat, operating the controls. 

“How do things look up top? Have you contacted Gavin?” Tycho inquired as he did his restraints. 

Hobbie gestured to the sensor readings, keeping his eyes on the sky before him. “We’ve got one Sith of a furball brewing. Three dreadnaughts, a bunch of old Vulture droid fighters, Tavira’s Star Destroyer, and what clutches she has left. They seem to be fighting each other as well as the Rogues, so we may be able to slide out of this yet, but I’m not hopeful. More likely we’ll get caught in the crossfire and become itty bitty pieces floating in deep space.” 

“What about the Rogues?” 

A sigh issued from Hobbie. “I warned them we’re incoming, but they’re busy in the thick of things. Sensors show seven X-Wings, not counting Corran.” 

“And there should be eight.” Tycho’s stomach fell. If he was honest with himself, he knew that the Rogues were lucky they were only down one. But even one felt like too much. 

“I’m going to Gavin on the comm. Get ready to plow through at whatever point he needs us.” 

“Are you sure about this?” Hobbie glanced at the sensors. “Any path we take through that furball will end with us in range of the big ships. We can take a few hits, but if we get too close to that Destroyer, we’re doomed.” 

“We have to help the Rogues break off. Even if we only pull off a couple of the Vultures or simple offer the clutches something to think about, it’ll give the Rogues a chance to get out.” He wasn’t happy with the plan either, but they needed to get their people out. “Unless you got any better ideas.” 

Hobbie simply took his hand off the controls for an instant and tapped his hat. Silence hung in the cabin as the bright streaks of red and green edged ever closer as the shuttle neared the fight. “I had to bring it up, sir,” he said quietly. 

Falken’s device would indeed help. Correctly configured, Tycho and Hobbie could create a small wormhole that would devour the Star Destroyer and the three dreadnaughts. Fear alone would cause the clutches to scatter. It would rid the galaxy of Tavira and destroy a bunch of droids programmed by a war bent mad man.

But the wormhole could just as easily swallow an X-Wing that flitted to close. Or perhaps the controls weren’t so simple to use, and the wormhole would open and devour Alludru or even the gas giant. _And I would have ordered the use of a terrifying weapon at the expense of my friends and hundreds of innocents. For the greater good. _

Tycho shook his head. “That’s not an option.” 

As he spoke, fire erupted along the _Invidious’_ dorsal hull, and two of the dreadnaughts closed in for the kill. The third began pouring fire into the mass of starfighters, vaporizing droid fighters as well as clutches. The X-Wings danced and weaved trying desperately to flee the combat zone only to be herded back in by the persistent, ubiquitous Vultures. It would only be a short time before the Rouges too began to fall to the deadly turbolasers. 

And Tycho could do nothing but watch. He had made his choice. 


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 42

“Three break to port, now!” 

A Vulture droid swooped in, scattering light across the X-Wing’s shields. But Nrin was already banking, pulling the droid into a tight arc that took it on a steady path through Gavin’s sights. A fireball blossomed. 

The fighting had worsened. Tens of fireballs lit the dark void of space at any given time as the three sides hammered at each other with continuous blows. Steady streams of green turbolasers pounded the hulls of the _Invidious _as two of the Dreadnaughts flanked her. A hiss of static burst through Gavin’s comm as a green bolt shot past his fighter, forcing him to dive. 

“Eight, where the Kriff are you? I’ve got two droids on my six,” Inyri’s voiced shouted over the comm. As Gavin swung to starboard, he could see the fighters whose lasers were peppering her hull but he was too far to get an effective targeting solution. She would have to rely on Varth for the moment.

“I’m on them. Inbound,” was Alinn’s terse reply. She swooped in, a clutch of her own tucked tightly behind her, but even as her red lasers shredded the Vultures, Inyri’s hull gave way. Her S-Foils tore off as Gavin watched and detonated in a fiery burst. 

Just as Gavin’s heart clenched at the loss of his friend, Toughcatch whistled, indicating he had a firm lock on Inyri’s emergency beacon. Although he knew Inyri was not yet out of danger, he felt relief flood through him. 

“Eight, shuck your tail and then protect Seven. We’ll have Lead pick her up on the way out.” _If he ever gets off the ground. If not, well, she’ll last as long as the rest of us I suppose_. Jamming his throttle forward in frustration, he sped towards the thick of the fight. 

Over the comm he could make out the steadily worsening plight of the other Rogues. 

“Step input to throttle else your equation will equalize!”

“Negative, we are diving now. Prepare for target alignment.”

“Yes! Come on mech brains, is this the best your programmers can do?” The last was Plourr, happily plowing through the swarm of enemy fighters. Gavin had made to censure her several times, but had given up. _At least her morale is still intact_. 

“Wahoo!” Reme’s joyous holler rang out over the comm as her X-Wing skirted the battle, one clutch hot on her tail, one in her sights. _Make that two pilots with unusually high morale._ As she flew, her X-Wing climbed further and further away from the main battle, away from the protection of her fellow Rogues. 

Mentally, Gavin cursed Corran for leaving a very junior pilot without a wingman. “Ten, come about and dive. We can’t protect you out there.” 

“But, sir, I’m just toyin’ with them a bit, I’ve got them right where want them. I’ve seen Tazy pull off the old Mynock Run a hundred times. I even pulled once or twice in my racin’ days.” Her X-Wing sped up, quickly gaining on the clutch but she showed no signs of diving. 

“This isn’t a game! Quit fooling around and vape them.” 

“Vapin’ ‘em now, sir. They’re gonna be in for a surprise!” 

As Gavin watched, the X-Wing hurtled towards the lead clutch only to snap roll into a steep dive. Unable to compensate for the sudden turn, the rear clutch slammed into its companion, hurtling debris into the vacuum of space as Reme dove away. But her dive was either not steep enough or not quick enough, and parts of the flaming ball of the disintegrating TIEs over took the X-Wing, destroying it utterly. 

In his own X-Wing, Gavin closed his eyes. _Sithspit. I lost my first pilot. Reme’s gone_. 

Shunting away the pain and uncertainty, Gavin ripped his thoughts back to the matter at hand, vaping a unlucky clutch that had managed to drift across his path after having just evaded a Vulture. Abruptly a voice cut over the Rogue’s channel. 

“Rogues, this is Lead. Package collected and debts paid. Let’s go home.” 

The comm air filled with excited whoops, but one look at the sensor board killed any urge Gavin had to join them. “Lead, no can do. We’ve got a Dread blocking our vector.” 

“I know.” Even with the distortions, Gavin could hear the heaviness of Tycho’s voice. Tell us where you need us, we’ll try to pull as many off you as we can before we thread the gauntlet.” 

“I need you to pick up Seven. Eight will point her out,” Gavin stated firmly. He knew the pickup would leave the shuttle vulnerable for precious minutes, but they couldn’t leave Inyri. “Rogues, defend the Lambda and then we’ll be on our way.” 

The chorus of affirmatives was drowned out by the screaming Ion Engines of a passing clutch. Jerking his stick to the right, Gavin took off in pursuit as the Rogues began working their way towards setting up a perimeter around the stranded Rogue. 

All ready, the few remaining clutches had taken note of the rescue attempt and were hurdling towards the shuttle. Two disappeared as green X-Wing soared by. 

“Well what do you know, Corsec does come when you call. Eventually,” Plourr sneered over the comm. 

“We serve to please, Two,” Corran returned. “Anybody see my wing?”

“Lead’s your wing,” Gavin snapped. He slowly let out a deep breathe. “Just cover the shuttle.” 

“Right” 

But even with the Rogues back up to Eight, their task still seemed insurmountable. A seemingly never-ending stream of Vulture droids issued from the Dreadnaughts even though Tavira’s clutches were all but gone. And still the larger ships hammered away, their rain of deadly light blocking the exit corridor. _At least things can’t get any worse._

“Lead, Four, I’ve got something dropping out of hyper. It’s big and heading this way,” Nrin cried out. 

_I take that back. _

Indeed, a massive ship could be seen approaching the battle, dwarfing even Tavira’s Star Destroyer. 

“Rogues, let’s get ready to rack up some odds,” Gavin said grimly. _There’s no way out_. 

The Rogues were silent, but then the comm crackled with a familiar voice. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear the word ‘odds’ come from the mouth of a Rogue Leader, Corellian or not. I thought the impossible was the Rogues stock in trade? Well, consider this an investment. _Lusankya_ inbound.” 


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 43

Outside the _Lusankya’s_ forward viewport, bits of debris floated by. Some were small, like the canted solar panels of the destroyed clutches; others were much larger, like the dead hulk of the _Invidious_. All of it drifted along, adding to the rings of ice and rock. 

Tycho observed the tableau in stone-faced silence, still pondering the day’s events. The soft clearing of a voice alerted him to presence of the man in grey standing behind him. 

“Thank you for bringing Qwi back in one piece. I know that must have been hard, especially after she let you get shot,” Wedge offered with a half smile. 

Tycho ran his hand through his hair. “Well, given the choice between saving her and incurring the wrath of a military genius with his own Super Star Destroyer, I went with the lesser of two evils.” 

“You made a good choice,” Wedge responded quietly. Tycho acknowledged the comment with a nod and returned to stare silently out the window. They both knew Wedge wasn’t talking about Qwi. 

“It was hard. Harder than I expected,” Tycho whispered, not looking at Wedge. He feared any expression of disgust that may be gracing his friend’s features. 

“It should be hard,” Wedge said, his voice gentle. “That’s what reminds us we’re the good guys.” 

“Well, General Good-Guy, it’s your problem once more.” The Alderaanian turned and thrust Hobbie’s battered hat into Wedges hands. 

The General took it, kneading it slightly to feel the disk hidden with in. He sighed. “I was afraid of that. You sure you don’t want to be General Good-Guy? It’s only another pip, I could arrange it. Just think of the irony, you in charge of Lusankya. And I’d be happy to take that dilapidated squadron off your hands,” Wedge teased his friend. 

Tycho snorted. “Or I could just tell the Admiral what a splendid job you did saving our collective sixes. Maybe he’ll give you a few more ships and a permanent Advisory Council position.” 

Brown eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.” 

“You know I wouldn’t,” Tycho said with a laugh that cutoff in a groan as his injured side throbbed. He hadn’t reported to the Med Bay yet. “How did you find us anyway? Not that I’m not grateful, but I wasn’t expecting back up that fast.” 

A big grin broke across the Corellian’s face. “I got a tip from one of the smugglers.” 

Tycho cocked an eyebrow. “Why would he do that?.” 

“She. Seems that she didn’t want our dear Hobbie to get hurt,” Wedge replied, his grin expanding. 

Tycho blinked away his amazement. “But I thought… Who is she?” 

“Her name is Nanner and she’s the Devaronian who was partnering with your dear friend Bishi. It appears Bishi got a little greedy and betrayed Kinar to a Hutt named Durga. When Bishi learned about that the Hutt had hired Tavira to attack Alludru, she got worried. She informed Booster, who in turn contacted me. Apparently, Nanner was worried the Rogues would try to interfere. If it came to a battle and Hobbie didn’t survive, she’d never be able to learn the name of the handsome Devaronian pilot who practices ‘The Precepts’.” 

“All that to date Targon? Give her my thanks and tell her she can keep the Wraiths of her choice. Maybe we’ll get lucky and she’ll haul off Targon and Tainer. Or maybe Loran.” 

Wedge shook his head, still grinning. “Now, now. Tainer’s a married man. Even if his mistress is a pack of explosives.” 

Both men laughed, Tycho clutching his side. He allowed the grin to recede from his face. “So,” he began cautiously, “Is the General planning on becoming a married man?” 

Wedge studied the hat he held in his hands and then slowly shook his head. “Not now. It’s just…it just doesn’t feel right yet. I love her but…” his voice trailed off. He cleared his throat and started again, speaking in a low voice. “There’s just things… Like the device. I can’t tell her, she wouldn’t understand.” 

_I know someone that would_, Tycho thought sadly, but remained silent. 

They studied the remains of the battle together for a while, neither speaking. Finally, Tycho voiced a question that had been haunting him. “I wonder what super weapons are still out there, waiting to unleash there horrors? There are so many people looking now, and knowing the Emperor’s iron fist, there will be many to find. I wonder, how many lives will they claim?” 

“I don’t know,” Wedge responded slowly. “I don’t think anyone knows. We’ve been lucky so far.” He snorted. “I hate to think of loosing so many pilots to those Death Stars as ‘lucky’, but we were. I just got word that Luke managed to stop the _Eye of Palpatine_ before it could be used on a large inhabited world, so we got lucky there too. I guess stopping super weapons are what Rogues and Jedi are for.” 

“Just another service we provide to the galaxy,” Tycho commented dryly. “Well, I need to go debrief our little group of heroes. Praise Gavin for successfully leading the squadron and punish Corran for leaving his flight in a lurch despite his heroic efforts to save my skin.” 

Wedge’s smile returned, albeit smaller. “What do you have planned for punishment?” 

“I figured I’d let him be Rogue Leader next time me, you, Wes, and Hobbie take a vacation together. Let him feel what it’s like to rein in this bunch.” 

“Suitable, but when will we ever get the time to do that?”

“Well,” Tycho said with a smile tugging at his lips. “That’s the official punishment. The unofficial punishment is that I’m informing Mirax that he’s basically her slave for the next few weeks. I figured if anyone can teach a Jedi how to take orders, it’s her.” 

Wedge laughed. “And Wes says I’m a nasty commanding officer.” 


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 44

The small cantina near Silvante Base was filled with pilots celebrating. Although the holoscreens hummed with the latest podrace statistics, the announcer could hardly be heard over the din of noise. The pilots of Rogue Squadron were among the most vocal patrons, toasting Gavin Darklighter for his glimpse of leadership, giving Plourr a grand sendoff back to Eiattu, and offering remembrances of Reme Pollar. Oddly, the quietest table in the establishment belonged to one of the most extroverted pilots in the squadron. 

Wes’ drink paused in mid air as he glanced at Hobbie. “What?” 

“No Ewok pranks, no celebratory yell. Are you sure the doc droids cleared you?” 

The darker haired man took a swig of his drink before responding. “Oh they cleared me, blaster wound all healed, but there’s still something wrong.” 

A line creased Hobbie’s brow. “What’s wrong? I mean, I though it was strange you have those bruises on your cheeks still, but is it something serious?” 

Wes nodded solemnly. “Very serious. You see, my skin doesn’t have that baby soft feel that you’re always bragging about after your bacta baths. I want a refund.” 

“Kriffing roika,” Hobbie muttered with a glare as Wes laughed at this friend’s gullibility. 

Wes reached out and poured the remains of his bottle of lum into Hobbie’s glass as an offering of peace. “Drink up. I just had to make sure you were worried about your old pal Wes while you were off having fun saving the galaxy.” He picked up his own glass. “To death of the galaxy’s hottest Admiral. To Tavira!” 

Hobbie raised his own glass reluctantly and then downed its contents. “We lost too much taking her. Her and Kinar. We could of used you and a platoon of Ewoks.” 

“Who needs Ewoks when the Rogues had you? Sounds like you were quite the Ewok yourself.” Wes scratched his chin with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “Maybe I can get a little stuffed Hobbie and hide it in Tycho’s cockpit. Ewoks just don’t work on Alderaanians.” 

“I thought you were too scared of Tycho to prank him,” Hobbie shot back. 

“No, I was simply giving him time to adjust. Can’t spring the whole Ewok Rebellion on him while he’s still adjusting to command, now can I?” 

“Why Wes, I didn’t know you cared so much.” Hobbie’s voice was heavy with sarcasm as he fiddled with his now empty bottle. “He does seem more confident now, more sure of his command than he has been.” 

“Probably a good thing since we’re not getting Wedge back anytime soon. He didn’t even stop in to see me,” Wes whined, lips extended and arms crossed, pouting. 

Hobbie allowed a bit of smile to curl his lips. “I think the only reason Wedge stays in Fleet is because it’s far away from you. Besides, he had to head back to rendezvous with his Fleet Group. Something about making some Hutts nervous.” 

“Alas, woe is me, abandoned by my friend who would rather consort with Hutts.” Wes’ grin widened. “Are you sure it wasn’t so he could spend a little private time with his, er, private doctor?” 

The groan that issued from Hobbie caused several nearby patients to give the two men a quick glance, although Hobbie couldn’t see the strange looks as he had his face buried in his hands. “I did not need to picture that. Keep it up and I’ll see that you have KP duty for months.” 

“Love’s funny, isn’t it?” Wes commented reflectively. “It causes people to do the strangest things. Even things I would never consider doing.” 

“There’s something you wouldn’t consider doing?” Hobbie joked, but Wes could tell his heart wasn’t in it. Looking closer, he realized his friend was running a small scrap of ragged cloth through his fingers. 

When Wes raised a questioning eyebrow, Hobbie set it on the table. “It was Reme’s,” he said simply, but the expression on his face spoke volumes. The mournful look would appear to most to be no different from the usual state of his features, but Wes could clearly see the sadness hidden there. 

“You loved her?” he questioned softly. 

“I don’t know. Never really had the chance to get to know her.” 

They sat in silence, Hobbie stroking the cloth and Wes staring into the crowd. Abruptly, Wes stood and clasped a hand on his friend’s shoulder and then walked away. They had known each other along time and Wes could sense his friend needed some time alone to mourn. Hobbie would be fine. He had dragged himself through many painful losses in the past and always managed to bounce back to his usual cheerless self. Wes would be there for him when he did feel like talking, but now it was time to give him some room. 

_Besides_, Wes though as he sat down at another table, _I have a chance of my own I need to take_. At with that, he began to speak to Inyri, hoping this time he wouldn’t earn another bruise. Around them, the Rogues continued to laugh and talk, enjoying their hard-earned bit of enjoyment. They all knew it would only be a matter of time before they were called to arms to save the galaxy once more. 


	46. Epilogue

Epilogue

“In other news, new evidence reveals that Hero of the New Republic, Jedi Master Skywalker may be under the influence of an evil bodysnatching Crilltar from the Unknown Regions. For more information on this report, we go to our correspondent Hallis Saper…” The Holoset flickered as the scenery changed. 

“Turn it off, dear. We don’t need that sludge on,” a woman dressed in a casual frock commented from where she sitting on a chair. Out the viewport in front of her, a red hues lit up the sky as a yellow sun set over the tropical jungle. “I’m sure we can find other ways of entertaining ourselves.” 

“Oh?” commented the man sprawled on his stomach on the bed. From here, he had a perfect view, not of the holoset or the sunrise, but of the lovely woman before him. “I don’t know, I don’t think my side can take much more than lying here and watching the sludge news.” 

The woman’s white hair fell artfully down her back as she stood and sat on the bed. “Think your poor injured side is up for a massage?” Strong hands grasped his shoulders as she gently kneaded away knots of fading stress.

“That feels nice,” Tycho said contently. “We should take vacations like this more often. No squadron. No Janson. No tough decision. I could spend the rest of my life like this.”

“Mmm. That would be nice. Do you know what would also be nice?” Winter murmured. 

“No, what?”

She poked him softly in his still healing side. “If you gave me the massage, Flyboy.” 


End file.
